Saving Grace
by Lightwing7
Summary: Castiel finds himself challenged with something terrifying that he's never had to face before when a run-of-the-mill hunt backfires. But when a life-altering secret rests inside the angel's heart, he unknowingly becomes the catalyst to a chain of Apocalyptic events. (Set sometime in the future) Hurt/Comfort, Family, Angst, NO Slash. Contains spoilers for S11. MAJOR hurt!Cas.
1. Chapter 1: An Unexplainable Incident

**A/N: This was initially going to be a 7,000 word one-shot, but the 'Supernatural plot bunnies' struck, so I expanded it to a multi-chapter.** Recent Edit: **I omitted the back-story chapters, but fixed the continuity errors, NOT changing the plot, though. You'll still find everything almost exactly the same, minus a few tiny, insignificant details. Plus, for those of you who didn't read them, i'll be putting them in an Epilogue at the end of this story.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Anything from or related to Supernatural, and this fic is not for profit or gain. I also don't own any movie references, or tv show references listed in this story.**

 **P.S. Spoiler warning for the end portion of season 11, Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 1: An Unexplainable Incident

~SPN~

The air was thick and heated as the brothers raced through the forest alongside their angel friend. What they were running from could best be described as a mistake, a freak of nature; and the brothers wondered how they were still alive with such a creature chasing them.

"I think we lost him," Sam mumbled in raspy breaths as he dodged obstacles from all sides of him as he ran through the trees.

The angel turned to look behind him before responding. "He's right, I no longer sense it near," replied Castiel, as he slowed his pace to a standstill.

The Winchester brothers stopped to catch their breath, struggling to keep their bodies upright while gasping and wheezing for the precious oxygen. But the angel, remained perfectly upright with no signs of exhaustion wracking his human vessel as he stood guard.

"Cut and dry case, my ass!" Dean huffed.

"Yeah, we go in trying to find a Wendigo and end up being chased out by Godzilla," Sam finished.

Castiel pivoted around when he heard them mention his father's name in the bizarre word. "What is Godzilla?" Castiel asked.

"Nothing, Cas. Just a giant killer lizard that's empowered by nuclear radiation," Dean clarified, standing up straighter now that his lungs were working again.

"Komodo dragons are the largest lizard on earth, Dean. I have lived through many millennia and I have never heard of one of them being radioactive."

Dean shook his head. "That's because it's a movie, Cas. Like Raiders of the Lost Arc, or Indiana Jones."

"Yes, my father made sure that the Arc of the Covenant stayed out of human sight after the seventy Israelites disobeyed my fathers warnings and looked inside it."

Sam and Dean both laughed on cue at that answer which caused Cas to tilt his head in confusion, awarding even more laughter from the brothers. While Metatron did give the angel knowledge of popular culture, that last incursion with with the darkness scarred a few of his memories. They really needed to find time to have a sit down and run through all the basics with Cas.

It had just been one of those days where something was bound to go wrong sooner or later. Almost every hunt did, but this time they thought it would be a regular cut and dry case. They had just been hunting a regular sized creature. A normal everyday monster, before they realized they were being chased by something much larger. But this one was far from normal. The outer armoring looked to be made out of the same material as an angel blade and its feet had the most ravenous claws he had ever seen. Not to mention, it was almost the size of a tree.

Cas gave a last glance to the hunters who were refilling their guns, before gathering his essence and using it to seek out any enemies in the vicinity.

This was one of the newest powers that the hunter was made aware of by the angel. Which was mostly because he hadn't really done any field work with them until recently, and rarely in such a large area. Dean kept on watching the angel, his curiosity peaked with each subtle movement. He hadn't noticed it before, but the past few hours were serving to be a reminder as to how strong the rebel angel really was. His nearly recovered grace added a certain strength and bravery that the hunter _rarely_ saw these days. But he was glad for it nonetheless.

The angel's brow crinkled in concentration as he kept perfectly still, the wind lifting the sides of his trenchcoat with noticeable snaps. He almost looked like one of those superheros on tv, standing erect on the top of some tall building with the moonlight reflecting off a utility belt and a silky black cape flapping poetically in the wind.

There wasn't a day that went by where, Dean didn't peruse the different directions that their lives could have gone. He secretly wished that his brother could've had that white picket fence life with a wife and kids and a law degree. After all, he was more adjusted to the hunters life than Sam was and could hold his own if it came down to it. That was what he told himself anyway, each time his baby brother would shake him softly awake in the night with the evidence of a nightmare plaguing his features. Or the times when he would fall asleep to some superhero program, letting himself get lost in an imaginary world with no demons, monsters, or creatures of any kind. Just a dude with green hair and a red painted devilish grin.

But that was a different time. Now, he had a weapon against the evil. One who had risked his life countless times for them and who knows how many other times that they weren't even aware of. Yeah, he had some major screw ups, but who wouldn't when they had all that heaven and hell crap to deal with. At least he tried his best to come when he was called, and most of the time had the heavenly powers to back them up when their cards were low. Was there really much of a difference?

"Dean?"

The hunter realized he was staring and immediately turned away from the angel, biting his lower lip as he tried to think of a way to explain himself. "Right, um, did you sense anything?"

Cas tensed his shoulders and met the hunters gaze. "No, I didn't, but my grace only reaches for a radius of a few miles." Castiel paused as part of him longed to never say those words. He was once a powerful being, a heavenly angel with so much power in one finger that he could take down the fiercest enemies of heaven. Now he was struggling to keep his human vessel alive, much less fight any foes. His grace was replenishing itself, but the memory of the power that he once wielded, stung deeply. "I'm not certain it is gone."

Dean pivoted to look around, spying his brother doing the same, before rejoining with the angels gaze. "If you say it's a few miles away then we have more than enough time to high-tail it back to the Impala before it finds us."

"I'm not sure," Sam interluded. "It's not that I doubt you, Cas. But you saw the way it avoided those traps we laid out. It knew what we were up to. This creature is smart, Dean. Smarter than anything we've ever come across. This place could've been the site for a breeding experiment gone wrong for all we know."

Dean pressed his lips into a thin line, contemplating just what his brother was getting at. When it all came down to it, he knew that they had only had two choices: Either they stay and fight, or leave. Considering that none of their weapons were a match for the beast, staying there definitely wasn't an option."So what do you propose we do, Sammy? Stand here and wait to be killed, or worse? or hike the mile back to the Impala?"

Dean said the last word as more of a sarcastic proposition than a question as he faced his brother.

 _Sam was silent._

"That settles it."

The trio had just started walking the mile back when a small beating of wings was heard. Castiel readied his angel blade and instinctively stood in front of the two hunters, shielding them from what was possibly another angel on kill mode.

"Show yourself!" Castiel shouted.

Everyone remained quiet and still, their senses on full alert as they surveyed their surroundings.

After some time passed with no sign of any threat, the angel lowered his blade and returned it back into the ether. "False alarm, I-"

Dean barely registered a hazy form before it suddenly came barreling through the trees and rammed into the angel. Castiel was flung through the air and slammed to the ground.

The air punched out of his lungs from the impact, sending shockwaves of pain ratcheting through his body. This wasn't finished, Sam and Dean were still out there fighting. He needed to get up. Forcing himself up on his arms, the angel fought to bite down a scream as he felt the bones in his shoulders twisted out of place. It now occured to him that his only option at the moment, was to lie still, so he regulated a small amount of his grace to the problem areas to help ease the pain.

Blow after blow of Ruby's demon knife hadn't served any purpose, other than making the metal-tank-with-teeth mad, but just standing there watching, wasn't his style— He'd hit it with pool noodles, just for the sake of fighting— not surrendering.

It wasn't interested in doing anything but barring the path to Cas, despite both of their methods to dicract it, which was very worrisome and ticked the hunter off to no end. Still, he wouldn't be Dean Winchester: The Crazy, without biting danger in the ass a few times. So in a desperate attempt to rescue their fallen compadre, the hunter lunged forward under the belly of the beast, and grasped the fabric of the angel's trenchcoat.

Unfortunately, the material was very slippery under his trembling fingers. Almost like grasping butter; which made clamping onto the underside, that much more impossible.

Castiel felt the tugs to his clothing. Opening his eyes, blearily, he reached out to take Dean's hand, despite the burning in his shoulders from doing so.

Their fingers were in touching distance of each-other, but then Dean was shoved from underneith by, what is that thing? He stared at the now visible, metal tail swaying violently to further trap the angel from escaping, or the hunters to get to him, and shrugged, turning to his brother.

"Sam, I can't reach him!"

His brother swallowed, staring at the large propeller in their path. "Cas, can you hear us!" He called out.

"Cas!"

"Dean." Cas tried to call out the hunters name, but his lungs had barely any air in them so it came out in a gravelly whisper. He wished there was a way for him to get to Dean. He wished he'd had the strength to reach out further before the hunter was torn away from his grasp. He wished he was a full angel again.

The hunter was aware of himself and his brother as they were flung through the air, and hit what felt like the trunks of two trees before everything went black.

Castiel lied there, helplessly watching as the brothers were smacked into the tree trunks. He could feel the spark of grace within was fading fast, and he felt the emptiness changing him from a vivacious oasis of essence to an uninhabitable desert. He felt dead. There was sudden, strong hold over him, rendering him inert and unable to move as a dullness took over his senses, blocking him from thinking. Gradually, he was coerced into unconsciousness.

As he came to, a few minutes later, blues and silvers danced in his hazy vision until his senses focused clearly on the beast towering above him. The angel took a calm and controlled breath as the creature knelt down to him and stared into his eyes.

Castiel studied the glowing, blue eyes in great detail, trying to piece together the identity before each of his arms were suddenly pinned under its feet. He understood now, why it was so hard to move. Although Castiel didn't know what kind of creature it was, the aversion that he felt in its presence and the false power that it possessed, made him almost certain that it was an other-worldly creature from a place that is absent of light.

He desperately needed to escape.

In a hastened attempt to free himself, Castiel slid the hilt of his angel blade into his hand and collected his nerve for what he was about to do. Bending his wrists as best he could in that position, he angled the tip over the creature's appendage and stabbed down with all his strength. This caused a newfound rage of furry to erupt from the creature, as it bore down even harder on him. Cas winced as he felt the pain of its razor sharp claws dig into his flesh; Its body now weighed heavily on his bones, nearly cutting off the circulation. He was almost certain that both of his shoulders were now dislocated, but he didn't have enough time to check at that moment as the pain bit heavily at him, forcing the angel to cease all struggles to get free.

* * *

The underlying leaves on the forest floor made an excellent hiding place for bugs as well as cushion its newest occupant from the harsh rocks and mud lying underneath. But nothing could've prepared him for what followed.

Dean was suddenly awoken by the horrendous scream of a being, who was in unimaginable agony, and an awful realization hit him. Ignoring the throbbing pain in his back and head, the hunter rose from his position on the ground and ran as fast as his body would let him out of the embankement of trees.

Dean quickly found his way out of the trees and stopped just behind the creature.

He only saw two things after that. His angel passed out, and the creature that was on top of him. Dean checked his person for weapons, but to his dismay, he found only some salt guns and Ruby's demon knife; Which at this point would be like trying to take down a dinosaur with a flyswatter. The silver tipped arrows that they brought with them were apparently lunch to the thing. A bazooka would have been the _ideal_ weapon to bring along.

 _And of course their silver tipped spears were eaten by the thing, it was perfectly normal for a monster to eat silver._

Seeing his angel being pinned down sent a surge of anger through him.

 _What the hell was this thing that it could hold down an angel?_ Even when Ca's mojo was drained, it was like hitting a brick wall. Of course, at the time it wasn't intentional, so he wasn't moving very fast. But, Dean still felt the power of the angel's essence hit him head on like a freight train, and it friggin hurt. But now, he was nearly at full power and the thing still had the upper-hand.

Dean found himself clinging to the only option he had left. But the last option in his arsenal was also the most dangerous, and could wind up hurting the angel even more, and quite possibly himself. That wasn't an option, so he talked himself out of ramming into the creature.

A beam of light suddenly reflected off a patch of grass and shined into the hunters eyes. He knew for certain that there hadn't been anything there prior to the attack, which left only one other conclusion; This was Ca's angel blade. Dean intensely focused to send a thought to the angel, telling him to wake up. After Cas was kidnapped recently, this was their fourth form of communication in case one of them were ever separated from their phones or unable to speak.

The hunter then sent Castiel a mental thought to slide over his angel blade. Dean desperately hoped that being unconscious wouldn't affect his hearing, and waited with bated breath for the angel to indicate that he heard.

His heart leapt in his chest as he saw the angels eyes slowly flutter open, and watched as he weakly slid his hand along the grass till it reached the hilt of the blade lying there. Dean could see him grimace as he did this and made a point to lie down on his stomach to lessen the distance between them as much as possible so it would hurt the angel less.

After nodding in confirmation, Castiel painstakingly slid the blade over to the hunter's outstretched hand, and in one fluid motion Dean picked it up and stabbed it into the creature.

To his dismay, the blade didn't even make a scratch against the armor plating. But thankfully, but also strangely, the creature ran off at lightspeed into the trees disappeared before he got another chance to maim it.

With the threat seemingly withdrawn for the moment, Dean immediately rushed to the angels side and checked him for any wounds or injuries. A surge of relief hit the hunter when he saw only bruising and a few scratches on his wrists and arms, along with two dislocated shoulders. However, the relief was short lived before yet another rustling sound caused the hunter to brandish the angel blade once again.

Dean's senses were on edge as he stood in front of the injured angel. He was sure that the creature was coming back to finish the job. After all, they were defenseless prey unable to hide from its radar.

Dean gripped the blade tighter in his hand as the rustling got louder and raised it threateningly in the air, preparing to throw it. To his surprise, a tall dirty figure with an overgrowth of hair suddenly walked out of the foliage in front of them.

The older Winchester heaved a sigh of relief, lowering his guard. He stifled back a laugh. "How'd the mud wrestling go, Sammy? Did you get the pig?"

Sam shot his brother a jerk-face. "Some of us weren't lucky enough to wake up on a pile of leaves," he grumbled. The younger hunter glared as he made his way over to his brother before a concerned expression took over.

Sam knelt down by the angel. "What happened?" he asked warily, rubbing the part of his head that made contact with the hard oak tree.

Dean caught sight of him wincing. "You alright, there?"

The hunter fakely shrugged it off. "Yeah, i'm just a little rocked, that's all."

Dean knew that it wasn't entirely the truth, but he let it slide on account that he didn't see any wounds or signs of broken bones. "We had our asses handed to us while Cas was alone with that thing. Which reminds me, we should get the _hell_ out of here before it comes back."

Dean's gaze shifted to the angel lying on the ground. "Cas, can you heal yourself?"

"I believe so." Castiel grunted as he raised his hand in a way that wouldn't stress the bones in his shoulders further, and hovered it over his shoulder.

The brothers watched as a bright light halo'd out from his palm for a few seconds, before flickering out.

Cas blinked in confusion. "My grace, it's... gone."

Dean met the angel's now fearful gaze. "Gone?"

Sam moved in closer. "Cas, what do mean by gone?"

"I mean I don't feel its power within me. I feel empty."

 _That definitely wasn't good._

Whatever that creature had done to him had rocked him pretty badly for his grace to just give out like that. The thing was badass to be immune to the angel blade; something that could take down every other creature that came in contact with its cold steel— Besides the obvious exceptions of course. Dean knew it had something to do with the _oddly_ strong armor plating that covered every inch of the thing, considering the angelic weapon of heaven didn't even scuff it. This thing was either magic, or held a much darker secret to be able to mess with an angels grace like that. Let alone, be able to run at almost the speed of light.

The discussion was going to have to wait. For now, they all needed to get somewhere safe to plan their next move.

Their lives were never simple.

Dean rubbed a hand over his face in temporary defeat. "All right, we need to get back to Bobby's and we'll figure it out from there." He undid the angel's coat, ignoring the strange responses. "Looks like it's pioneer style for now," he muttered, carefully working on making the angels trench coat into a makeshift sling for both arms, securing his shoulders in place. It wasn't much, but at least it would keep the bones from further harm and help the pain, somewhat, when they started walking again.

After everything was set, and the hunter felt it would somewhat do it's job, Dean helped the angel slowly stand up from the ground. All the while, Castiel's eyes rested on his angel blade that Dean held in his hand.

The hunter must have caught onto it, as Cas saw his eyes suddenly drift downward to the blade and back up to him.

"I'm going to hang onto this until we get those bones of yours set, okay?"

Castiel reluctantly agreed, and the three of them began walking back to the Impala, with Dean in the lead, always keeping the angel blade at the ready in case they had yet, another run in.

The silky black hood of the Impala soon came into view as they made their way out of the forest.

Dean rubbed his hand over the glossy exterior in a quick greeting on the way to the passenger door, which didn't go unnoticed by his younger brother on the other side.

"Yes, Dean, the car is still in one piece."

The hunter scowled at Sam before walking around the back of the vehicle.

Castiel was about to climb into the front seat, before he paused in his movements and looked around, disoriented. "Where is Sam?"

The sound of leather squeaking cut off his train of thought as Sam climbed into the back seat. "Right behind you, Cas." The younger hunter smiled slightly to reassure the angel. He was looking right at him when he climbed into the back, how did he forget where he was that quickly? Sam ran through the angel's list of injuries over in his head. None of them could have awarded this amount of disorientation. _Perhaps the pain was making him a little groggy._

Castiel turned and nodded at Sam before making a move to sit down.

After all these years, he was still not used to sitting in the metal death trap that Dean called the Impala, or Baby. The angel started thinking back to a time when he didn't understand why Dean referred to his car in such a way. At the time, he could clearly see that it resembled nothing of what a baby looked like. It had no human parts at all. Then, after a few years, he figured that it was an endearing nickname that humans sometimes gave inanimate objects sometimes, and left it at that.

 _Why was he revisiting old memories?_

As soon as the angel was situated, Dean walked back around to the driver's side and slid onto the familiar rough leather. He could feel the eyes of his brother burrowing into the back of his head.

"Dean?"

"What?"

"The blade."

Dean looked down at his hand and realized he was still holding the angel blade, and set it under his seat. In his defense, he wasn't used to being the one carrying the giant Archangel's blade. It was always in Castiel's possession, so naturally, he forgot it was still in his hand. The hunter turned toward his brother half expecting him to smirk smugly and rub it in his face, but the younger Winchester just stared out the window in his usual deep thought mode.

The hunter turned his review mirror towards Castiel.

Dean's eyes were mirrors to the anger that was radiating from his being, and Cas could see a twinge of guilt and fear inside them causing his soul to fluctuate in its resonance and energy as they loomed over him.

"Cas, i'm sorry. I should've been there sooner... I should've woken up when you needed me."

"Dean, you and Sam are not to blame for being unconscious," Castiel replied.

Sam made eye contact with his brother. "Hey, like Cas said, it's not like you stood by and watched everything happening. There was nothing we could've done while passed out."

This didn't seem to convince the older Winchester any, but the angel could see it in his soul that it made him feel better, which caused Castiel's heart to feel lighter.

At least he did some good.

After a last glance to the angel, the hunter lowered his gaze from the mirror and drove off without another word.


	2. Chapter 2: The Visitor

**A/N: Edit: Refer to chapter 1 for the minor changes I made. I don't own the line in the first part of this chapter which comes directly from the episode, "The Vessel."**

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Chapter 2: The Visitor

~SPN~

A slick, oily smile perverted the compassionate and innocent face of the archangel as he made his way closer to the hunter. The bloodthirsty hunger in his eyes told Sam that he was in the presence of true evil, and sent warning signals to the rest of his body to either fly or fight. Naturally, their father raised the Winchesters not to be cowards and run from danger but to; instead, 'fight with everything you got.' So, that's pretty much how he played it. Only, things didn't exactly go as planned; if the balled up fist in his shirt was any clue, or the feeling of cold stone pressing into the sore muscles in his back. There was no doubt in the hunter's mind that he was now prey, a plaything, and that made his stomach lurch.

Sam visibly shuttered as he felt a claw like appendage on his shoulder. His eyes flinched from their steady gaze as he was shoved into the wall behind him, causing him to feel more like a trapped bunny in a hungry fox's field of vision, than a ravenous carnivore going out for the kill. But he'd only had the uperhand with this enemy, once.

This is what the Winchester brother had been trying to avoid the entire time. But he was the prey of a snake now. A snake that wouldn't stop squeezing him until he got that one word of complete betrayal out of him.

 _Dean wouldn't be coming to the rescue this time. How could he when he was still trapped on the USS Bluefin in 1944._

"Dean." The archangel held up a finger of discontent and contorted his voice to a deeper and more gravelly tone, softening his gaze in a mocking representation of innocence and sadness. "Dean. He knew the risks. He wouldn't take 'no' for an answer."

The raspy façade of words came tumbling through and cracked his wall of confidence. Dean would never believe such a story, would he? Then again, Sam had been reckless with his decisions in the past, so how was his big brother supposed to spot the difference if Lucifer kept in character? He dumped the apocalypse on them. Surely this would be taking another step down if everything came to pass and he said yes. If he became his vessel. But he couldn't let his doubt show. His brother would be in pieces if he ever found him splattered on the walls of the bunker that Lucifer colorfully described. Sam had to make his confidence, convincing.

"He won't believe I'm dead," the hunter replied strongly, his gaze unshifting from the glare being directed at him.

"Sure I will, Sammy. I believe anything Cas tells me. You see, he's more reliable than you are, and frankly more trustworthy.

The deepness of the pitch alone would have made someone think that batman was in the room, but not Sam. He'd grown accustom to a certain, signature style since before he could remember. The natural way that his name or nickname would roll off his brothers tongue, including the sarcasm and insults that rolled effortlessly off his tongue, confirmed his thoughts. _His brother had come back to rescue him. But then again, how?_

Castiel noticed Sam's assurity, and smiled smugly at the older hunter approaching them, while crossing his arms. "Hello, Dean," he greeted in an un Cas-like tone as the figure approached them.

The older hunter walked up to his brother.

"Dean, that's not Cas, it's Lucifer," Sam bellowed.

Surely his brother had heard the tone range and figured everything out by now. Not to mention how horrified he knew he must have appeared. But, his lax posture did little to convince Sam that his brother had even heard the archangel speak, because if he had, Dean would be stunted and stiff, instead of the laissez-faire attitude that he was currently sporting.

"I know," Dean replied nonchalantly.

Or would he? The younger hunter visibly shuddered. "You know? Then why didn't you tell me?" Sam growled.

Sam watched in dread, as leaf-green eyes leveled with his own; framed in a sickeningly sweet smile that in no way resembled the warmth of his brother. Something was _very_ wrong.

"Because, why should I when you're not being truthful?" Dean snapped.

Sam hoped that his brother was critiquing his words, instead of bringing up his cage match with Lucifer. At the time, he figured God would sort of help out and keep him at bay from double-crossing him. Although, he also thought that it was truly the creator who was giving him visions and guiding him on some righteous path to defeat Lucifer and save the world from The Darkness. Neither of which turned out to be true.

"What do you mean I'm not being truthful, Dean? Cas let Lucifer take over his vessel. Just look at him. That's not Cas anymore, it's Lucifer. He's the one who's not being truthful," Sam pressed.

Dean scoffed. "No, you see, you're the one who lied to me. You went down to the cage as mister big-shot and thought you could sway the devil into giving you the instruction manual to defeat the darkness. You got cocky and overplayed your hand, leaving _us_ to clean up your mess. Any of that ring a bell, Sammy?"

His brother was once again pushing that sharp point into him, but something in the way he said 'us,' turned his way of thinking to a new angle. Who, exactly was he referring to? Sam stared dumbfounded, and furrowed his brow. "Us?"

"Oh, yes." Dean placed his hand on Castiel's shoulder, in front of him. " _Our_ profound bond."

"But that was with Cas, not Lucifer." Sam couldn't believe it. Seeing Dean being all buddy-buddy with Lucifer, was making his skin crawl and he had to wonder if he was dreaming, or at least hallucinating. Dean would never side with the devil, no matter how ugly things got. It just wasn't his style.

Dean tilted his head abnormally. "What? This is Cas. The new and improved Cas. He doesn't whine, he doesn't complain, and is much more pleasant to be around than that sniveling excuse for an angel. He's, Cas 2.0"

Sam lowered his gaze. "I don't believe any of this." He had a gut feeling ever since he saw Dean, that things were very wrong. And his brother talking trash about Castiel, the angel that pulled his brother from hell along with the countless other things that he sacrificed for all of them, made it on the list. The hunter leveled his gaze with those of snake-eyes. "I know Dean, and he would never say or do any of these things against me or Cas. I've seen _their_ profound bonding thing in action, so you can't make me believe that this is real. This isn't real and I want out, Lucifer.

The impersonating-angel let out a long, drawn out sigh, and turned to him almost smirking. "Fine, have it your way."

With a snap of fingers, the world around them coiled and faded into itself.

…..

Sam cracked an eye, gazing out bleakly at his surroundings. The realization of where he was hit him, causing a muscle in his jaw to tick irritably as he caught a glimpse of holy fire licking at the bars surrounding him. Sam groaned. He was in Lucifer's birdcage—Which would most likely be his prison until if and when he said yes. _But if he was in the cage, where was Lucifer? Had he left him there to rot?_

"What, you think you got away from me, the big 6 6 6?"

Sam jumped up, ignoring his body's protests and turned just in time to see Lucifer step out of a dark corner and into a section of the cage illuminated by the glow of the fire; shading his features into that of a serpent.

"Nope, not that easy."

He tried not to look into his entrapping gaze as he spoke. "Why am I back here again?"

Lucifer lifted his brows and pursed his lips, knowingly. "Because it's what you wanted," he replied matter-of-factly.

"No. I wanted out, not out and then pulled back here," He snapped.

Lucifer ignored his panicked tone and clucked his tongue. "Sam, I'm disappointed. Haven't you learned anything? You don't always get what _you_ want. While I on the other hand, have everything 'I' want right here." He paused. "Although, not everything I want I suppose. I've been trying a bone-crushingly long time to get those vocal chords of yours to squeeze out a _yes_ , but you've been one tough nut to crack. I mean, i've put you in so many of my illusions that even I've lost track, and still, nada.

Sam's eyes lit up in realization and fear. "You sent me back here after making me think that I left?"

The devil waved his finger at him as if he was a little kid who just ate candy before dinner. "No, no, no. You never left," he replied simply.

Sam's forehead pinched with concentration. "All the cases, those were just-"

"Special effects from yours truly." The fallen angel held up his hands narcissistically… "Brought to you from the cage." Lightning cracked the air to punctuate his point.

The hunter swallowed a lump in his throat at the sudden realization, and began backing up into a steel bar behind him. How long had he been stuck in his twisted illusions without realizing it? He only had memory of just the one. Maybe his memory of the prior jumps had been erased by Lucifer, but the thought of that _thing_ messing around in his brain, gave him a sick-to-the-stomach feeling.

The devil raised his shoulders and spoke in a whiny voice. "Ah, come on, Sam you look like a kicked puppy. Sharing a room with me isn't all that bad. You'll find that I'm quite pleasant to be around, say in a thousand years or so."

That did it. Sam stomped over to Lucifer, his eyes fiery with hate. "I don't want to share a room with you, I don't want to share anything with you. I don't want to have _anything_ to do with you. Can't you see that!"

"Oh, now that really hurts my feelings." Lucifer dropped his head down and fakely sobbed before facing him again.

Mock laughter filled the cage.

"You think I actually care what you think of me?... No, it only makes you all the more delectable. And I have to admit, the idea of getting into that body of yours again, makes me all tingly." Lucifer scanned him over hungrily and licked his lips, causing the hunters breath to hitch as cold breath hit his skin.

"Dean, is coming for me." Sam blurted out in attempt to buy more time.

The devil moved his lips from where they were hovering over Sam's collarbone, and met his eyes with a cold stare. "No, you see, he's not coming for you. knowing him, he's probably bangin' the darkness right now. How else do you explain the missed texts? Which, wouldn't that make it about 18 now? She has him wrapped around her little finger, and the last place that he's gonna want to visit is hell, when he can be filled with euphoric bliss."

Lucifer ate up every twinge and unsteady breath that the human's body produced, and continued on. "And... God's certainly not going to help you out of this. That just leaves me." The fallen archangel put his hand over his chest in fake centimate, and pushed him roughly into the steel bar behind him. "You're my bunkmate, buddy, for all eternity." He tilted his head methodically. "Scratch that, for as long as your fragile human body can take."

Lucifer drug a finger up Sam's arm, and paused as if he was completing a checklist in his head. "Before we dispense with the neighborly greetings, are there any last words on your tongue; preferably pleasing to the ear? Or maybe, I don't know, the one word of salvation that stands between you and the worst pain you've ever felt in your life?" Lucifer lifted a hand to his ear.

Sam's stomach churned at the idea of techniques that the Lucifer possessed. With the kind of imagination Zachariah had, the devil was sure to be exponentially worse. He knew the fallen archangel wouldn't let his prize vessel die, and would always bring him back every time he was on the brink of death, but death was the easy part. Sam had to give his brother time to find him; no matter what the odds were, whether he was still trapped in a tin can meters under the ocean, or not. He had to hold out.

"No."

"Hum? I didn't quite catch that."

Sam was surprised at how weak his voice came out and tried the best he could to calm his body enough to produce a strong, unwavering sound. When he felt the small amount of tension leave, he steeled himself, and bravely narrowed his eyes. "I said, _no_."

Lucifer shook his head. "You know for a nerd, you're surprisingly stupid." His eyes flashed red.

Sam closed his eyes in acceptance, but still couldn't stop his body from trembling. He was afraid.

Blinding pain disturbed Sam's thoughts as a hand shoved inside his abdomen, being anything but gentle as it clawed its way deeper and deeper to his most precious possession; his insides coiling up and writhing in hot agony as the fibers of himself, burned.

"God. Help me," Sam choked out before he screwed his eyes shut.

In an instant, everything ceased in its course.

For a moment, the Winchester wondered if he was dead as his consciousness curled up into itself. Was he finally going to that unknown place the reaper was going to drop him and his brother?

His last thoughts were of his family, before he drifted into the sweet relief of unconsciousness.

* * *

Silence filled the darkness; accompanied only by a creaking of metal springs as heavy breaths were punctuated by small pained whimpers of terror, before ceasing.

Sam shot up in his bed gasping for breath. His body was soaked in a thick layer of sweat causing the fibers of his clothes to uncomfortably stick to his skin.

He clutched his chest in remembrance. The lingering pain in his stomach was still there, and breathing was angering his internal organs, causing them to burn.

The hunter rubbed the film from his eyes, and they darted around the room, searching for the familiarities of his barely visible surroundings. To the left of him, he could make out the shadowy silhouette of his nearby hanging armory, and then to his right, the memorabilia on his bedside table.

He was in the bunker now, but that didn't mean a thing.

"Lucifer." Sam called out just quiet enough so his brother didn't overhear. If Dean was still in his devil-made illusions, that is.

When he heard nothing, the hunter simply laid back into his pillow, sleep deprived and vulnerable, and waited for the initial pain of whatever the fallen archangel had planned for him, to hit.

Sam flinched as a hand suddenly rested on his stomach and braced himself for more. Which was impossible to do. Even when he went to a pleasant memory in his mind, he still felt everything that Castiel did to him that time he was soul-less, and he was gentle.

But as the minutes ticked by without anything happening, the hunter's body relaxed more and he began to noticed something very odd. The hand on his stomach held heat.

 _Was this really Lucifer?_ Sam thought to himself. Lucifer's hands were always icy-cold, so did that mean that he was finally left alone? Probably not. Sam's senses started to haze. "Who are you?"

"Shhh… fear not, Sam," came the gentle reply.

He grew surprised at the softness of the tone, but still kept his eyes closed not wanting to see what he knew would be a horrible sight. Sam had woken up in too many illusions, and most of the time, it was to find himself strapped to a gurney, or blind-folded on a hill of ants; neither of which _ever_ having pleasant consequences.

Suddenly, the hunter felt a soothing warmth wrap around him— unlike anything he had ever felt before; and opened his eyes.

Sam glanced down at himself. A bright light was emanating from his body, making his skin glow and pulse with energy. He could feel it caressing and healing his soul of its burdens; replacing them with calming peace. This was obviously an angel's grace producing these sensations, but the question was, what angel was doing it? Sam's mind caught up with him. Castiel. It had to be him. No other angel would do something like this. He was the only one that they've ever met who wasn't a dick, except for Samandriel.

Sam gave up on asking more questions, because now he knew that he was safe and away from Lucifer; who was most likely scared away by the being that was healing him now, by Castiel. So, he did what every sleep deprived and mentally exhausted hunter did when the coast was clear. He let down his defenses and curled into the calming warmth around him, slowly starting to drift off.

But as the hunter was on the edge of awareness, he heard a soft whisper in his ear. "Remember, keep this between us."

Sam smiled and gave in to the sweet embrace of sleep.


	3. Chapter 3: On The Edge

**A/N:** **Special thanks deadone1013 for all the continued support that I've received. And to all of you readers who have continued to stick with this story. There will be much much much more to come.** **Alright, on with the Plot!**

* * *

Chapter 3: On The Edge

~SPN~

Transpiring NOW…

The headlights of a 1967 Chevy Impala illumined a dark stretch of road as it rumbled past the various housing complexes and other facilities in the area. The black shine of the hood was muted by a red stain as the vehicle came to a halt under a dimly lit vacancy sign, barely standing out against the night, flickering as it was jostled by a forceful wind.

Two men exited the vehicle, their stance was stiff, eyes narrowed alertly on their surroundings. On their personage, a few hand-guns were tucked safely away from prying eyes, filled with deadly bullets made up of a white condiment. One of the men opened a third door and another passenger shakily stepped out. His stance was weak and wobbly as he swayed on his feet, eyes drooping from exhaustion. Just as he was about to land face-first on the cement, capable arms reached out and supported his body, carrying him inside.

A clerk sat stationed at her desk, absently twirling a lock of blond hair in her fingers and staring at the water cooler with unnatural interest. The ding of a bell suddenly sounded, snapping her out of her thoughts, and she shuffled to a more professional position before the door swung open.

"Sam, Dean? Is that really you? The last time I saw you you could barely see over my desk." Her mouth curved upward into a friendly smile. "Who's your friend?"

"Sam, we've been here before." Dean spoke quietly to his brother.

"Dude, you know it's a possibility. We've fished in the same hunting hole more than once, before."

"Yeah, and I wanna do some fishin' in her hole."

Sam coughed.

"I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

"Yep." His brother had been turned on like an electric eel inside a lightbulb, the entire day. Something about their latest hunt had made a lasting impression on him. Too lasting. And now he was about to come onto another woman while holding a passed out angel in his arms. _Yeah, that sentence didn't sound right._

Dean scanned her over and winked flirtatiously before returning her smile, but his heart wasn't completely in it anymore as he instead, was focused on the well-being of the injured friend in his arms the second Cas shifted.

"His name's Cas, and he's a little under the weather, so just ring us up a room for the night and we'll be out of your hair." Dean mentally doubled back on that idea. There was a hot voluptuous woman in front of him—first one in months—and he was blowing her off to spend the night in a room with a bunch of dudes? That didn't add up. But then again, it did. He was always having to sacrifice the 'hot girl,' for the good of the team.

Dean knew that he would always be wishing to settle down with someone. Not the quick booty calls with his brother waiting in the Impala a few floors down in the parking lot of a cheesy hotel, but a real, loving and passionate relationship with only one person. He could only dream.

The clerk pretended to total up the cost on her computer and then smiled mysteriously at the two of them. "Alright, that'll be zero big ones."

"I'm sorry, did you just say zero?" Sam spoke up in a confused tone, and furrowed his brow in unmistakable surprise.

Dean smirked. He was always getting free stuff for being ruggedly handsome. "Yeah, Sam, the pretty people get the free rooms." He felt his brother give him a warning elbow in the gut.

The clerk shook her head at their banter, and let her eyes wonder a little. Maybe it was half true. She faced them both. "I can't believe you don't remember? Although, you were very little at the time. You came here with your father about.. I think it was fifteen years ago, and helped me with that horrid shtriga. That thing sent every child that stayed here to the hospital, and I was about to be closed down by the CDC on account of what they called, 'an unidentified airborne pathogen,' until you and your father hunted it down and saved my business." She clasped her hands on the desk. "I told your father that staying here would be free for the rest of your lives on account of your good deed."

The woman sauntered over to them and eyed the younger Winchester. "Sam, you were too young to hunt, and your father…"

"Kept me locked in the room watching cartoons until it was over," Sam finished.

She nodded at Sam and turned back to Dean. "Do you remember?"

"Chloe, the perky blond. You look different from this height," Dean gave her a friendly grin.

Her cheeks flushed slightly." Well, now that you can see all my proportions instead of just one, I should hope so," Chloe giggled. "And that goes for you too, Sam." She firmly but playfully pointed her finger at the younger hunter.

Dean licked his lips, causing her to flush a brighter shade of red. What was that? He couldn't do this, not now. Not when his friend was hurt and almost passed out on his shoulder. They still had to catch the sob responsible for the metal tree with claws.

His thoughts were put on hold as he felt the angel slump heavier in his arms, and his mind was back on target. "So, it's been really great seeing… you again, but I gotta take Mr. Comatose to our room now." Just… go with it.

Chloe smirked playfully at his placed hesitation. "Of course, room 213. I just stocked all the rooms, so you'll find everything you need inside. Have a restful night."

Both brothers bid her good night and then headed to their room. Dean fully carriedthe angel as they walked through the hallways, which worried the both of them. They soon arrived at the correct room number and Dean hobbled inside with his exra passenger. Sam trailed behind him and flicked the switch.

Once the room was properly lit, Dean gently set the injured angel down on one of the king size beds, careful not to jostle his shoulder anymore out of place, and slid off his supply bag onto the bedside table. He inhaled and took note on how clean the place smelled, which was a rare accommodation among seedy motels; and the absence of beer stains on the carpet, was a plus.

Sam perused the two beds and decided against mentioning sleeping arrangements as it was obvious what they were going to be, and instead, decided to go ahead and grab the medical kit from the bathroom along with any other supplies they were going to need.

Once his brother left the room, Dean shifted his gaze towards the sleeping angel and bent over him. "Cas, can you hear me?" His chest was undulating evenly with each breath, and his eyes were loosely closed with the exception of an occasional flutter. What they now had to do was almost a crime, and his heart felt heavy on the prospect of what was coming. But they had no other choice. Now that Castiel was nearly human, he was susceptible to infections, and that could bring further complications to his situation if they weren't _dealt_ with.

Dean reluctantly sat him up, and tentatively began peeling off the many layers. It was a wonder how the angel never got overheated, even with his grace.

 _Shit. This couldn't have been happening._ Instead of the small gashes on his wrists, which he originally saw, there were now red and oozing gashes that made up the length of the angel's arm, bleeding profusely on the blankets. His trenchcoat had been covering them up the entire time without him noticing. How could he have been so stupid?

"Sam!" Dean shouted.

The younger hunter ran out of the bathroom with his gun raised, and whirled towards their direction; whipping his head around frantically. "Where are they? what happened?"

"There's no demons here, Sam. It's Cas. Bring me some towels, and the med kit. Hurry." Dean felt a serge of guilt rush through him for chatting with their friend so long and not really thinking about the needs of their injured, angel friend. He hated himself for being so careless, and not further examining him once they were out of harms way.

Dean sat cursing and anxiously tapping his foot in a silent rhythm on the carpet as he awaited his brother's return with the supplies—which was really, only about ten seconds, but in his defense, it felt like an hour. There were no demons, just his foolery. "M'sorry, Cas," Dean said. The bed vibrated suddenly.

Was he waking up? Or was that a tremor? Dammit, you're not having a siezer, Cas. He flicked his vision to the angel, but his features were relaxed and calm, not at all distressed, and his body was still, not convulsing.

He glanced furthur down to the edge of the bed, and his eyes landed on a white cross with a red, box-like shape around it. _It was the Medical Kit._

Immediately, he pulled out a bottle of rubbing alcohol, before easing the angel flat on the bed. Which brought him to another thought. Cas' shoulders were still dislocated. He pressed his fingers lightly over the bones, but there was no reaction other than a small breath hitch. His grace must have been surrounding the area, though nearly obsolete, it was seemingly keeping the bones from grinding together accidentally, for the moment at least. But, sadly doing nothing to heal his injuries.

Sam had already placed the towels under Castiel's arms and was now busying himself with threading a needle. Things were spinning out of control way too quickly.

The hunter sighed. "Please don't wake up, Cas," he whispered, and set a hand on his bicep to steady himself, and began pouring the alcohol over the gashes on one arm.

Dean felt the angel tense up under his hand, but no sounds of pain were emitted, of which he exhaled relievingly. "That's it, Cas. Just stay still," he cooed.

So far so good.

But, the relief was cut short as he saw the flesh on the second arm was a pale yellow and the lacerations were also much deeper. Not good. Deeper, and infected were two words that always meant more pain, in their experience, and loud screaming in a motel would gain unwanted attention; Something that they never wanted. So with an uneasy glance to his brother, Dean began to pour the substance over the angry wounds.

Castiel suddenly gasped sharply and fought against his restraints. When he realized that he wasn't moving, he followed the hand that was pressing him to the bed, and stared annoyed at the younger hunter, searching his eyes and then moving to Dean's, before softening his expression to one of stoic acceptance. He stared down at his wounds. They were deep enough to warrant stitches, an experience that he wasn't horribly familiar with like the Winchesters, but he knew the level of pain, all the same. The thought of going through it, caused his heart to flutter nervously. Especially since the pain wouldn't be normal, but instead, the equivalent of acid on tender flesh, considering that what caused his injuries, wasn't normal.

Dean spoke up. "Don't be nervous, Cas." Even though I'm about to throw-up at the thought of hurting you. Even though the infection's gonna make this almost unbearable. _Yeah, pointing out his nervousness was the right way to go before stabbing his flesh through with sharp needles._

Sam reciprocated his expressions. It was clear that both of them were dreading this, but it had to be done. Now that Castiel was basically human, he had to be repaired like one.

In a last attempt to quell the impeding unpleasantries, the angel lifted his hand over one arm and tried pushing every last shred of his grace into himself… but it wasn't enough. His grace fluctuated in it's power, causing the ever so faint glow in his palm to sputter weakly and finally flicker out, same as last time.

Dean immediately tried to reassure him with a strength that he knew he didn't posses at that moment, but he tried anyway. "Hey, I'm sure it's just temporary. You just need to rest it for awhile." He grabbed the alcohol from the small table, and faced him with a regrettable air. "I know they're deep and infected, Cas, but I need you to focus everything you got on not screaming."

Castiel nodded and steeled himself, intently watching the bottle of disinfectant as it poured onto his wounds. At the last second though, he flinched and turned away as he felt the cool liquid make contact with the raw flesh, and whimpered, gritting his teeth as he felt the acid-like burning up the length of his arm.

"Sorry, Cas."

On the whole, it wasn't that bad. He had survived worse at the hands of his enemies, and even his family. The stitching were what perturbed him the most. That part _wasn't_ going to be so easy. After a few moments of residual stinging, the pain started to subside and he felt the pressure on his bicep disappear.

Dean flicked his attention to his brother, who nodded and handed him the threaded needle. Swallowing hard, he shifted his vision down again at the angel staring at his soul through wide, calculating eyes, brushing off the momentarily uncomfortable feeling that it produced. He knew by now that whenever he received such an intense stare, Castiel was reading his mind as some sort of safety mechanism.

Dean slid a chair over to the edge of the bed and sat down, not once breaking eye-contact with the angel. "You know what comes next." Castiel merely lowered his head in response, which didn't make it any easier for the hunter. They were all equally dreading this after all.

Sam took back his place on the other side of the bed and sat down on the very edge next to Cas. "I'll be right here if you need me."

"You got this," Dean encouraged and waited for the angel to steel himself once again, before pushing the tip of the needle into the surrounding flesh of the wound.

Castiel tightly clenched his fists in the sheets and screwed his eyes shut as the needle poked through the raw flesh. Sam's whispers of encouragement, met his ears but did little to help other than serving as a small distraction. His arm felt like it was on fire from holy oil, and stabbed with not one, but a thousand needles. _Damn! it hurt._ Yes, it was the perfect time to use one of Dean's mannerisms.

Through a hazy awareness he began to register faint, soft touches to his skin as if something was being brushed across it. An odd tingling sensation enraptured his senses, numbing the pain of the stitching, and at that moment, he didn't care what it was. Cas closed his eyes and focused all his mind on the feeling, letting it wash over him in calm, soothing waves.

Dean smiled at how much an affect such a small gesture made, and saw his brother producing the same expression as he watched. It was a trick he would use on Sam when he was younger, but his brother didn't go into ecstasy. Dean had an inkling that it had something to do with being an angel. Cas' senses always seemed to be in a heightened state whether he was graceless or not. Secure that Cas had some form of anesthesia, keeping the touches light to prolong the effect, he slid the remaining thread through and pulled the flesh together. This wouldn't _last_ long.

Time seemed to slow to a crawl.

Try as he might, the brushing technique soon became obsolete as the hunter moved to the more, deeper parts of the wound; worsening the pain as he foretold so, of which he turned to telling hunting stories. Castiel's hands were once again gripping the sheets in a vice-like grip till his knuckles turned white, his body growing tense with each stab of the unforgiving needle. Sam offered support whenever he could, which the angel was grateful for, but it did very little to ease the pain. All the angel could do was focus in on the soothing voice of the hunter, and hung on every word from his lips as he told him stories from the misadventures of his youth.

The growing need to scream was getting stronger—he couldn't shake it. The hunter was giving him a sympathizing, knowing look, and the angel read his soul like a book. Castiel saw guilt. He saw sadness. He saw uncertainty. But most importantly, he saw how hard it was going to be to keep his secret from him. How incredibly hard it was going to be to…

 _Suddenly, the soft bed was no longer under him and his arms hung, locked above him. The cold, penetrating his body as his grace was kept bound by metal shackles digging into the flesh of his wrists. An icy stare met his hardened gaze. "Tell me the truth." The voice was merciless and deceptively calm._

 _A whimper escaped his lips as skin tore, the muscles in his arms stretching far beyond their limit. "I was not responsible for the angels fall, Metatron was. He used me to steal my grace so he could power the spell."_

 _"Wrong answer."_

Incoherent sounds filled his ears, the pitch oselating and moving with a patterns that were familiar, and seemed to hold a great deal of panic in them. He tried cracking an eye open, but the world around him was nothing but a blurred image, like a rock dropped into a still lake. Focusing on the tattered grace, the angel pushed as much healing into his raw senses, and muffled voices filled his ears, soon clearing along with his vision.

"..Cas..." Dean shakily inhaled, trying to find his voice. "i'm gonna continue this later, right now, just sleep. You need it."

"No!" he bit out, sharply."

The hunters jumped with a startle and shifted uneasily under his piercing gaze.

Pain and fear shined through pure concerned eyes and shattered his waning illusion. This was the Winchesters, not Azriel. He was safe. The hands holding him to the bed were caring, not chaining him against his will. The fiery, stinging pain was from a needle, not a knife.

He calmed. "Please, I want you to finish," he seethed through clenched teeth, his eyes glassy from unshed tears.

Dean frowned, but pushed his nagging feelings deep and focused on finishing the stitching.

Castiel closed his eyes.

* * *

There was warmth. He felt warmth. Warmth was surrounding him. Had his grace rejuvenated? The angel moved his limbs and felt them lightly weighted down by something. He cracked an eye open to find himself cocooned in blankets, and slowly sat up, feeling the remnants of exhaustion to his vessel as well as his grace which he still felt weakly pulsing within him. Cas glanced downward at completed stitches following up the lengthy, gash. It wasn't healing but at least the inflamed redness was gone along with the execrable acidic burning. The stitches were complete? He'd finally given in to the human necessity of sleep, but during the procedure, even after his regrettably loud protest to the hunter. Where was Dean?

The angel did a fleeting sidelong-glance to the other bed and saw long dark bangs poking out from the creases of a crumpled pillow. The other portion of the bed was empty. Where did Dean sleep? Did he sleep at all. The chair stood in same place by the edge, unmoved and unoccupied, as well as the space beside him. He swung his legs out of bed and bristled as he felt the unmistakable drop in temperature to the lower half of him, and glanced down. _He was in his boxers._ Dean must have removed his pants after he passed out. He concluded this with a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, and hastily slipped on his clothes before sliding on his trenchcoat.

Blood stains soiled the insides of the sleeves, but regrettably, his grace was too weak to clean the material. He sighed at the premise. Ignoring the dried blood clinging uncomfortably to his skin, he exited the room.

A cool, crisp air greeted him, permeated by the sweet smell of blooming flowers and freshly cut grass. He closed his eyes and inhaled fervently, lifting his head heavenward.

The angel moved gingerly to a bush of freshly blooming roses. The rushing need to find Dean, slowly diminishing as he delicately caressed the petals of a blooming rose with the pads of his fingers, breathing in its saccharine aroma. The plants on earth paled in comparison with those of heaven, but roses were one of the few that held a candle to them. He counted it one of the small miracles of nature that embracing the elements could relieve his grievances and fill them with harmonious energy again.

The angel paused and released its petals, feeling the small need to find the hunter, returning. _Dean, where are you?_

 _Rustling up some grub for the road, back soon._

Be careful.

 _When am I not. Hmm… I'm definitely getting this one, it comes with an order of hash browns. Hash browns and burgers is like breakfast and dinner. I made a rhyme before 9:00 a.m._

Satisfied, and unsure how Dean thought any of that rhymed, Castiel took one final whiff of the flower and then veered back towards the door.

Sam's posture was unusually stiff, his arm was bent behind him as he held a wide stance, glowering fiercely at the intruder.

"Sam, it's alright. It's just me," Castiel clarified, raising his hands non-threateningly.

The hunter grunted and straightened his arm back to his side and approached him, eyes searching. "Cas, I um… Where's Dean?"

The angel noted the level of urgency in the hunters voice and passed along the message. "He's getting some food for the road."

"Good, we're gonna need it for the four hour trip back to the bunker." Sam rubbed his neck absently. "By the way, how's the shoulders?"

Castiel squinted at him and then rolled his shoulders a few times before facing the hunter once again. "…Still dislocated, but I feel no pain."

Sam stared shell-shocked, brows raised in disbelief. "Cas, you're not supposed to be able to do that when your bones are dislocated, why didn't that hurt you?"

"My grace keeps the bones from further disalignment, and numbs the area around the joints. I truly feel no pain." He took a seat on the foot of the bed, and folded his hands in his lap. Castiel wasn't entirely convinced that Dean hadn't either slept in the chair beside his bed, or the backseat of the Impala. Both of which would have awarded a crummy night's sleep. And it would be his fault.

"Cas, you okay?"

The angel nodded. No, he wasn't okay. He was losing this fight, and he needed help. "Fine, just thinking." He saw Sam's brow crease, but it smoothed out soon after. He didn't need the regular questioning routine on him, he was a warrior, and an angel. All the human uncertainty that the hunter's possessed wasn't a part of him, not really. The angel had many millennias of training under his belt and could handle tough situations. He only wished that the Winchester's treated him more like an angel and less like a human, because no matter how much they tried to 're-educate' him, he would always be a celestial wavelength of energy inside a human vessel. Nothing could change that, and he was truly not one of them.

"Cas, you know I forgive you for that incident in the bunker, right?"

There was an uncomfortable silence between the two of them before it was broken by a deep baritone. "Yes, Sam. You've already told me this." Naturally, Sam forgave him, but that didn't matter.

Sam frowned. "Are you sure about that?"

At first, Castiel was unsure of which he was referring to until he caught the gleam of what could've only been unshackled compassion in his eyes. This was hitting him hard. "Sam, I know that you and your brother have forgiven all of my senseless acts. I'm sure that _you_ forgive me. But I know what Dean thinks, how he feels. There's a part of him that can't forgive me for allowing Lucifer to hurt you. I put that there, Sam." The angel shut his eyes. "I don't think I will ever forgive myself…"

"Look, Cas, you did what you thought was right. Even though Dean says that the whole flyin-by-the-seat-of-your-pants thing is idiotic and dangerous, but sometimes that's all you got, and you gotta take it. You took it, and defeated the darkness in the end. So what if it was messy. The bigger picture is still intact, thanks to you. Think about that."

Sam arose off the bed and started packing up their things, leaving the angel alone in the sun-blotted room with his thoughts.

Castiel silently stared at the maroon curtain hanging above the window, pondering Sam's words with careful thought. But the flashbacks of his failures, shake loose any solidity in the hunter's words, and he bowed his head in defeat. Sam forgave him, Dean didn't. The angel couldn't find it with himself to forgive his actions, as long as Dean held a grudge against him. What was he supposed to do now, go back to heaven?

The rumble of the Impala pulled Castiel out of his thoughts as it drove up to the motel.

The angel was already standing beside Sam and they both nodded to each other before facing the door again. The knob turned, and a few seconds later Dean was proudly standing in the doorway, an oddly exuberant grin on his face. "Bout ready? Cause, we gotta hit the road."

"…Yeah, just about." Sam grabbed the last bag and slung it over his shoulder, giving his brother a specific expression which Dean caught, before heading to the car.

The angel did a final sweep of the place as if expecting to find his belongings, of which he had none. He was glad of it, though. Carrying material objects was another 'human annoyance. So as long as his only possession was an archangel's blade, his mind would remain in a calmer state. His gaze evened with the hunter's. "Yes."

Dean did a final sweep of the place, before heading out to the car with the angel.

"Hey, Cas if you're not ok with waiting we can just do it right here right now? It's just the last time, you used your high-def angel sound system and broke a few windows." Dean put his hand up to Sam, who obviously sighed and waved his hand at him to 'hurry it up.'

"I would prefer we do this at the bunker. You don't need another lawsuit on your hands." Castiel managed to hold back a small yelp as he lifted the handle of the Impala's door and pulled it open. His grace was weakening by the hour.

Sam snorted. "Dean, is that a hickey?"

"Chloe, wanted a more lasting impression." Dean grinned at his brother and then revved up the engine, before pulling out and driving away.


	4. Chapter 4: And Ye Shall Know The Truth

**A/N: Thank you for all the faves, follows and reviews i've received. This chapter is extra long to make up for my tardiness;) The next chapter will be released after my schedule calms down, about next week or in two weeks. Special thank you to deadone1013 (aka, angel from Bulgaria). Note: I don't own this bible quote fragment or any quote fragments in this story. Onward!**

* * *

Chapter 4: And Ye Shall Know The Truth

~SPN~

Sunlight brings warmth to the earth. It streaks through the oceans with its shimmering gold. It nourishes plants so they can sprout out of the ground. All this, to the simplicity of warming the cold blooded creatures who roam the land. It keeps this planet alive. But to a certain older hunter toiling away in the heat, the sunlight was a painful source of warmth and he found himself wishing for a cloud to cover the giant, burning, spherical mass.

Bobby looked up from his work to take out a rag from his pocket and wiped the beads of sweat from his brow. He'd put off a long list of improvements around the bunker ever since they finished with the darkness and he'd be damned if he wasn't going to use every bit of the short time allotted, to finish them. Even if it meant that he had to work in 100 degree weather.

The ringing from his cell phone momentarily shifted his carpenter complex back to a hunter. Brushing the sawdust off his hands, he fished the phone out of his pocket, in haste.

"How bad is it?"

 _"It's Cas. His feathers were a little ruffled during the hunt. We're on our way there now."_

Dean replied.

A part of Bobby immediately relaxed and let his lungs release the building air, but there was also a part of him that was equally worried for the scruffy angel. He'd grown to accepting Cas as one of the family now and it pained him to see that boy hurt; just like Sam or Dean. Sometimes more so because of the harsh, debilitating loss the angel suffered when he gave up everything he had ever known to help a couple of crazy humans defeat the inevitable prophecy. He knew that if he was faced with the kill-or-be-killed scenario like the angel was, he'd probably wrack his brain to invent a new one instead. But in Cas' dysfunctional family, there really wasn't a third option and the kid came to terms with it and did the hardest thing that no-one should ever have to do. In the end, it turned out that he was just as zany for free will as the rest of them.

Bobby knitted his brows in deepened concern. "What happened?"

 _"I'll explain it all when we get there, but right now I need you to research a creature with harder armoring than an angel blade, and can teleport."_

"What in the Sam Hill did you get yerselves into?"

Sam smirked. _"Just the usual Bobby."_

There was a small pause on the other line, along with a rustle of papers…

"I'm not sure that there's anything like that in the records, but I'll see if I can scrounge up something. How's he doin?"

Dean briefly glanced in the mirror.

 _"He's hangin' in there,"_ the hunter said with a gruff undertone of something unspoken.

"I'll get a place ready for him. Listen to me, whatever nicked Cas is likely trackin you, so you idjits be careful and make it here in one piece, ya hear me?"

 _"Yeah, Bobby."_

The line went slack. Bobby closed his eyes briefly, silently thanking whatever force that got them out alive, yet again. He didn't just come back from being an energy wave floating around in the ether to have everyone he loved die on him.

* * *

The recent turn of events had been unusually taxing on Dean's mind, weighing heavily like a sack of bricks on his back as it kept on replaying the day's events on a broken film reel with its ending spliced. He wanted to believe that Castiel hadn't sustained any major injuries, but the scream that he heard and the angel's now drained grace, spoke of something different. Perhaps it was just the pain of a shoulder dislocation? That always seemed to hurt the angel more than normal in the past, and he did slightly scream as it happened once. Well, not exactly slightly, since he used his true voice to profess his bodily torment.

Dean felt the bile rising in his throat at the flashback and pushed the memory far away. He couldn't think about it now... He just couldn't.

Although, maybe It was just the combination of it all that magnified the pain to that extent? However, there was something very strange about the way the monster fled, that scratched annoyedly at his brain. Though he was beyond grateful that the beast didn't do more damage, he had to question why. It could have easily killed them both, but it chose to flee instead? That didn't add up.

Dean took a break from his whirling thoughts and checked on the sleeping angel in the back. During their trip home, Cas began to show signs of drowsiness and weariness, so after they stopped to refuel, he changed places with Sam, so he could sleep. Which was where his tuckered out brother now resided; Beside him, eyes closed a few minutes prior with the warning not to snap another sleeping-photo of him. But having the responsibility of being a pain-in-the-ass big brother, Dean didn't oblige. There was something precious when he was peacefully asleep that reminded him of how his baby brother used to be before his hunting life began. Before all the preordained destiny crap was laid on him, before he knew the true pain of loss that came along with being a Winchester.

When all visual remnants of pain or stress from the day would be gone from him, and in their place was a calm and peaceful expression, it was a rare privilege that he took comfort in so he needed a more permanent copy to look back on. For his sanity, if nothing else.

He snapped the picture.

A crunch of gravel, plus the dying, throaty rumble of the Impala soon punctuated their return as the Winchesters pulled into the driveway. Dean loosened his grip on the wheel that hadn't even been aware he was squeezing that tightly, absently watching as his knuckles regained their natural hue.

From the looks of things, Bobby had gathered a few metal car parts and some wood planks right next to a power saw. What for, Dean didn't realły care much. As long as it wasn't for something crazy, dangerous, life threatening, or all three, the hunter stayed out of his personal affairs and didn't ask questions. The old coot had to stay livin' for at least 50 more years, even outrunning another reaper if that's what it took. They just couldn't face losing any more of their family, yet.

"Rise and shine sleeping beauties, we're here!" Dean announced loudly, causing Sam to wake up with a slight startle.

Blinking his eyes wearily a few times, he whipped around to the backseat. He snapped back around to his brother. "What're we going to do about Cas?"

The older hunter bowed his head. "We wake him up," came the dull reply.

Sam immediately protested this and crossed his arms. "No way. I'll help you get him inside, but you're waking him up. I don't want another bruise."

The older hunter snorted, remembering his brother's folly. "Dude, that was one time. And you're the one who clamped onto his arm with your giant hands and started shaking him. What was he supposed to do? You're lucky he didn't break your wrist."

Dean opened the side door, and peered in. The angel was sleeping with his back against the seat, head tilted off to the side with his hands resting peacefully in his lap. His chest was rising and falling in a deep sleep, stuttering every once in a while from what he guessed was a passing nightmare, then calmed, once more.

Dean sighed resignedly. His friend really needed the rest after God knows what happened to him when he was knocked out. But the truth of the matter was that Cas was suffering from shoulder injuries, as well as healing stitches, and his angel-juice was too weak for him to be left alone. He had to come inside where it was safer. After all, doing any doctoring from the confines of the backseat was impossible, say except for a member of Cirque Du Soleil.

Without any further mulling, Dean softly rested his hand on the angel's shoulder.

To the hunter's surprise, Castiel didn't so much as flinch at the contact, but instead, stayed perfectly still, his breaths still coming in even patterns as if he hadn't even registered that he had been _touched_ at all. Dean scoffed lightly at this and shook his head. "Come on, Cas, up an at 'em."

The angel began to stir, eyes slowly flickering open as his gaze transfixed on Dean, and then to his vacant shoulder. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he felt the hunter's hand resting there. The trace of lingering warmth and weight, told him that it was recently moved.

He faced the hunter. "Dean, I don't feel right... The walls of my stomach are contracting, painfully."

"And you've got the urge to upchuck into a trashcan?"

The angel held his stomach and closed his eyes. "There is a gradual urge to do so, but i'm not near any trash cans at the moment," he replied.

Dean smirked weakly and put down the middle seat so Castiel could get out easier. "You bet you're not. So shake off that feeling until I get you out of my car, you got it?"

The angel nodded, steadily rising up, mindful of the low roof. "I'll try, but it's hard to subdue my bodily functions."

Dean wet his lips, staring up at him. "I told you to keep your eyes on the sky, but you insisted on staring at the damn, road. This is on you."

Cas sighed, and climbed out of the Impala with Dean's help to steady him. "Yes, I know. But seeing those painted lines race past my vision was exhilarating. Especially the yellow ones." His smile turned into a rueful pout.

"I miss the bees," he added as he stepped onto the ground, staring longingly at the dried-grass billowing in the light breeze.

Sam had been leaning against the door, watching everything happening with a perplexed smile that held tinge of envy. He needed a relationship like his brother had. Perhaps another angel or immortal being somewhere would suffice? After all, how could they die burning on the ceiling if they weren't human? But where would he ever find someone like that who wasn't a dick?

"See, no bruises Sam." Dean arrogantly held up his wrists to demonstrate his previous point further, receiving a pissy expression from Sam, and shut the door.

"Profound bond, remember? You could've stuck a bunch of twizzlers up his nose and he still wouldn't have budged," Sam replied.

The angel was about to voice his opinion to their words, but felt his energy draining too quickly to get involved with another spirited Winchester argument. So just silently listened, observing the calmness of nature as they exchanged a few thinly veiled insults and colorful metaphors before abruptly ending it.

Dean shut the door. "We're done here, we need to get Cas inside. Eight hours, could be minutes or seconds to that thing out there."

Sam made a move to support the angel, but Dean took that liberty into his own hands. "I got this, you just let Bobby know that we're here." Dean wrapped one arm around Cas' waist to keep him steady, mindful of his injuries, and with gentle care he walked the injured angel over to the front door. The two of them stood in place as Sam gave a few short raps on the rough cedar.

Barely a minute had gone by until the door creaked open, revealing a slightly ajar Bobby standing by the doorframe, an unsettled expression plastered on his face. He bid them enter.

Once inside, Dean helped the angel down the stairs into the Men of Letters bunker, with the other two following beside. A small array of medical supplies consisting of alcohol, a needle and thread, and some bandages were all laid out on the wooden table. These were the essentials that every hunter had to have at one point or another, and Bobby knew that from regrettable experience with their recent battle with the darkness, so he kept the bunker well stocked.

Dean walked Cas over to the chair in the middle of the room and helped him sit down; giving him a once-over to make sure his bones hadn't shifted any _more_ out of place. Thankfully, they all seemed to be in the right places, even considering how many times he was moved.

After the older hunter got the angel situated, Bobby motioned the boys over to the stairs with him, away from where he believed the ears of the angel couldn't reach.

"Yah know what has to be done, right?"

Sam and Dean both perused each-other, then drifted back to Bobby. "We know."

"And you think that he can take that kind of pain? He's practically human now." The three of them leered over at the angel, earning a curious expression and head tilt in return.

"We have no choice Bobby, he's weakened but he's still angel. He's a tough little nerdy dude, he'll get through this," Dean finished.

"Let's pray he is, cause if memory serves me correct, having a bone popped into place the last time wasn't exactly a walk in the park for him, and we have two. The kid's tough, but even he has his limits."

Dean drug a hand over his face. "I know."

Silence. Nothing more was worth hearing, for he knew the general direction of the conversation. They brought home their _usual_ broken ally, not tough, broken. He was human again and that meant the Winchesters didn't have a protector anymore. Although he still possessed the knowledge and skills of many millennia as a soldier in his father's army, he was still relatively defenseless against attackers, and he feared what that meant for Sam and Dean. What would become of them?

The three hunters exchanged glances of uncertainty before promptly taking their places beside the confused angel, trying their best not to display the worry that was swirling under the surface.

Dean lightly squeezed his hand, keenly meeting his eyes. "You know the drill. Relax and try not to move." His throat bobbed. "I know this wasn't easy for you the last time, but I'll try to make it as quick and painless as possible. Just, please stay still or we could mess you up again."

The angel said nothing and softly nodded, maintaining his stoic front as he stared at the wall. In his defense, Castiel had originally planned on keeping still the last time, but when he felt the pain strike he was compelled to follow his natural instincts to get away from the source; which ended up twisting his shoulder all to hell. Cas needed to keep still for Dean, he didn't want him to hear his screams again, or see the hunter's composure break, running to the sink to throw up his latest meal. He had to be strong for Dean.

The hunter called Sam over to keep the angel still while the latter and Bobby each took a shoulder.

Castiel waited for the inevitable as his pulse quickened and his body tensed in suspense at what was coming. He knew what to avoid, that tensing his muscles would make the process much more painful. Castiel took several deep breaths to slow his heart-rate, forcing his body and mind to relax as much as possible.

The air cracked as his bones were set in their proper places, causing him to let out a small whimper, but showed no other signs of pain.

With the bones in place, Dean hovered back around the front of him and helped him up, sitting him down on the couch. "I got a handed to you, you're tougher than you look, Cas." Dean gave an 'I told you so' look to Bobby and Sam, which was met with a tired eye-roll from each of them.

"I'll go get some blankets." Bobby announced before heading down the hall. The hunter had to admit, he hadn't bet on the kid coming through it so cleanly. He was proud of him.

Castiel felt his trenchcoat being undone around his shoulders and then draped around him, before his eyes regained their focus and laid on a certain partially stubbled chin and shamrock green eyes.

He hadn't expected his focus to blur so suddenly, and blamed it on the procedure that that he had just underwent. The way Dean had described it to him didn't at all measure up to actually feeling it. At first, the angel expected a wave of pain to as his bones ground into place, like last time, but as it happened, he didn't feel hardly a thing. The angel knew his pain threshold was of average for a warrior of heaven, not as high as Michael's or Gabriel's, and certainly nowhere near Lucifer's level, but average. What was different? He'd felt all previous pains in the short time that he spent human the last time, so how was this any different? Had his grace regained its power?

"How's the stomach? Better?"

"It feels fine now." The angel twisted around to peek behind him, but in doing so, aggravated his sore shoulders, causing a grunt of pain to escape his lips.

"Cas, your joints need to heal before you can do any bendy things. Did you need your back scratched or something?" Dean asked.

"No, my wings, Dean."

"You need me to scratch your wings?... Okay."

"No, I don't need you to do that. Angel wings don't itch. Can you see them?"

The hunter peaked behind him for the appendages and over to the walls and ceiling before facing him. "You mean behind your back, or stretched out?"

"So you can see them. I need to-"

"No, I can't see your wings. They're still hidden," Dean responded quickly.

Sam felt uncomfortable with the way the conversation was going and knew that they needed some alone time before things escalated any more. Flashbacks of oily hands combing through thick back feathers, bombarded his memory. He visibly shuddered in his seat.

"Something must be keeping him, um... I'm gonna go help with those blankets."

Dean raised a confirming hand to his brother who was covering his ears as he left the room. What's with him?

Dean turned his focus back to the sulking angel, seemingly distressed by his previous words. Sometimes it was hard to tell what emotion Cas currently felt, due to the lack of signals he sent out. He tried digging further.

"Why are you so concerned about me seeing your wings all of a sudden? I told you I didn't care that they're tattered or broken, or anything you think they are. Hell, I wouldn't even care if they were made of cardboard. They might be hard to fly with though, better stick with feathers," he grinned.

The angel's cheeks turned a sight tinge of pink at his words, which pushed the hunter into a brighter smile, and at that moment Castiel couldn't stop the smile of his own that came after it. A small, minuscule burden was lightened from his load, but it was enough to raise his spirits. Only Dean had that power over him. Seeing Dean smile made his stomach flutter, and he felt blessed but also privileged to witness, especially, one of his rare genuine smiles that only happened when he himself did something that Dean particularly liked.

The angel watched as Dean's soul glowed an intense gold with blue and pink hues conflating and imbricating inside. A small portion of that radiated through the hunter's eyes and warmed the angel's heart. Castiel was going to make sure that he didn't waste one micro-second of time, watching.

"Thank you, Dean," he smiled softly.

"I meant every word. Your wings are beautiful, no matter what."

A small bang resounded from the basement, breaking the eye contact between them.

The hunter shifted uncomfortably and stared at his feet, feeling slightly awkward. Dean cleared his throat. "By the way, i'm glad that you came with us. Without your angelic tracking device, we would've been lunch. And that branch I hit..."

The angel met him in a dead on stare, his pupils loyally standing their ground even if they didn't reach his face. "It was my honor to rescue you, righteous man."

Dean raised a speculative brow. It had been a while since he'd used that named. But like before, he was still feeling unworthy of the title. "You still call me that after all i've done?"

The angel grimaced at his words. "After all you've done? You have done so much good, Dean. All the bad deeds you committed are outweighed by it in the cosmic scheme of things. You can't blame yourself for being human."

"I don't believe that a couple feathers have tipped the slabs of concrete i've got piled on the scales. I'm not righteous, it's a mistake."

"Dean... God doesn't make mistakes, he is perfect. You've looked after your brother, your family, this world; to the best of your abilities. You even saved it a few times. That is a high level of achievement that very few lay claim to. You should be proud of yourself."

The hunter raised his head from the floor. "So should you."

Castiel shook his head 'no'. "Believe me, I broke the scales a long time ago. Now i'm just overflowing with, bad."

Pounding of footsteps caused Dean to look up from the angel and over to the staircase at the figures descending it; their hands full of blankets and pillows.

"We're not done with this," Dean cautioned, before wrapping the thick blankets around the angel's body, leaving nothing outside the cocoon of warmth. Sam and Bobby came over and propped his head up the pillows they held in their hands.

Sam turned to his brother. "Dean, when we were gathering the blankets in the closet, I found a small lever hidden behind some towels that led outside the bunker. In case things go south with Lucifer, we have an escape hatch."

Dean scrunched his brows in question. "Sam, we found that lever when we first moved in."

"I don't remember there being a lever?'

"You were probably too choked up about the library, to even care."

While the brothers were busy reminiscing, Bobby gave the angel a final check for internal injuries. His hands scoured over his chest, pressing lightly over the certain areas with bluish pigment. All of a sudden, his hand found an unusually bruised spot and he pressed up against it with his fingers. Castiel let out a high pitched whimper, and instinctively pulled away from the touch.

Turning on his heels, Dean immediately took Bobby's place beside the angel. "Cas? What's wrong, buddy? Talk to me."

There it was again. That same line directed at him. With all the staring, he felt like an attraction at SeaWorld. He'd almost gotten back to his regular self, and now, he sat there powerless to do anything about his condition. Castiel said 'yes' to Lucifer and let him out of the cage. He's the one who was forced to watch him destroy people and his own kin, to watch Sam's agonized expressions as he deprecated him. And now, he's the one who was too weak to fight back hard enough when a deadly creature had him pinned on the ground. The hunters were always the ones to clean up the angel's messes in the past, and now they were cleaning up, _yet_ another mess of his. For their own good, Castiel didn't want the hunters to find out the truth. This mess was of his doing, and so help him, he would be the one to clean it up this time.

"I'm fine, my chest is just sore," he bit out.

"What kind of sore, Cas, like your ribs?" Sam studied him intently, watching for any tells. But either the angel was telling the truth, or was just an extremely good liar. There was no fidgeting, rapid eye movement, or modulated speech. Nothing to make him a suspect.

"No, It feels like a small bruise. I just need time to regain my strength," he replied to Sam.

Still not satisfied with his answer, but being able to do nothing with him in such a groggy state, the hunters left him in peace, curled up on the sofa watching nature documentaries on their portable tv, as they set to research in the Map room.

News anchor: "This just in. Littering the sidewalk of a Kansas gas-station, was a large pile of what appeared to be ash. Authorities are still not sure what caused this anomaly, but the attendant who was outside at the time of the incident, had this to say."

Audio recording of a witness: _"I was sober. I had nothing in my system but coffee, and I know that what I was seeing couldn't possibly be real, but now I have no doubt what it was."_

Reporter: "Could you explain to our viewers what you saw, Mr. Shicks?"

Witness: _"I saw the biggest damn thing that i've ever seen in my life. It's head was touching the telephone wires, its body was covered in some kind of silver armor and it had very sharp, ravenous, teeth and claws that were, I'd say about five feet long. I feared for my life. I thought, this thing is gonna kill me. And that's when it turned its swirly blue eyes towards me."_

Reporter: "What did you do next?"

Witness: _"Well, the smart thing to do would've been to run, but I didn't do that, how could I? Anyway, it shrieked loudly, bursting every streetlight and shattering the glass windows of this station, and then disintegrated before my very eyes, leaving behind this pile of ash that you see before you."_

"Wait, pause it and zoom in."

Hey, is that?..."

"Metadouche's ring? You bet. After Cas 86'd his ass, he probably needed to find work that didn't send the God squad or our very own avenging angel after him. Serves him right."

Sam scrolled around the zoomed image and landed on the face of the attendant. "His head is even fuzzed out."

"Alright, back on target!" Bobby ripped his tablet away from them, ignoring their protests. "We need to hit the books in case there's more of those things out there. Which means, we need Cas' description of the thing."

Dean knitted his brows. "The dude's exhausted, he's not exactly witness material right now. Besides, he have Metatron's description."

"Sorry, Goldilocks, but he's gonna have to be, we can't pussy-foot around with this. I didn't find zip about anything remotely relating to what you described. There's no lore, no news, hell, I even did a damn Google search. It's like it doesn't even exist. And Metatron didn't get an up-close-and-personal view of it, only Castiel did.

Bobby paused before speaking again. "Let me put it this way, If that creature managed to dislocate a few bones of an angel, what do you think it could do to us? That thing has some super juice up it's ass, and we should be preparing for the marathon and hitting the mega smoothies. Not ogling at some damn, ring, like a bunch of bridesmaids."

Sam pursed his lips. "Yeah, but how bad could they be if they explode within a few hours? We just need to give a bullshit reason for everyone to stay indoors until things play out."

Dean pointed at his brother, while keeping Bobby's gaze. "I'm with that idea. Why get your hands messy when you don't have to."

"You think it's that easy? What if certain climate changes affect them, or they recompose themselves after death? We don't know what these monsters are, or what they are capable of. This might even the beginning of another Apocalypse. We just... don't know." The hunter sighed and sat down in the chair behind him.

The brothers were silent, pondering the hunter's words. _This was far, far more complicated than what they previously thought._

….

Castiel was a move for the door before padding footsteps creeped up behind him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Cas groaned, turning around toward the three hunters staring at him. "To heaven, Dean. I appreciate what you've all done for me, but I need you to trust me, it's the only option I have left."

"You're God's poster-boy again, since when?"

"Cas, I thought your grace was too weak to fly? That's why we crash-landed on the cliff," Sam questioned.

The angel faced the younger Winchester. "It is weak, but I have enough strength to travel and return back to you."

He then shifted back to Dean. "Not everyone has taken me back into their good-graces, but I need help with something, information." The angels eyes didn't reflect what he was saying, but instead were filled with uncertainty and fear that made the hunter's insides twist.

Bobby sighed at what he was hearing. He wasn't the boys damn, invisible watchdog anymore that tagged along in the backseat of the Chevy. He couldn't keep them from trouble when they stepped out that door. They were tight-roping on the thinnest rope, and their safety net was apparently briefly out of commission. "What are you needing help with, that you need to exhaust yourself for?" He queried.

The hunter spoke over his uncle. "Um, hello, are we just furniture to you? We can help in any way they can!"

"No, Dean, you can't," snapped Cas. "Not even you can help me with this, neither of you can. I need the guidance of my brethren in heaven."

"And is that information worth dying for?"

The angel said nothing, avoiding eye contact.

"And what do you mean it's-"

The angel disappeared before Dean could finish, causing an annoyed shrug to erupt from the hunter. What had he meant by his only option left? Dean knew his injuries weren't _life_ threatening, so why take this risk to go to heaven? What was Cas hiding from him?


	5. Chapter 5: The Luck of the Irish

**Thank you all for following, favoriting and reviewing this story :D I know this chapter took a while, but since I'm on college break, I have a lot more time to write now. So be expecting quicker chapters. This chapter will give you some variety, as well as slow down things for a while. Enjoy!**

* * *

The Luck of the Irish

~SPN~

Castiel was gone. Off on another misguided mission to heaven, and was probably being tortured, for all he knew. Dean felt betrayed, hurt by the angel's actions. Why hadn't Cas trusted them with his problem? There was something wrong, even shady about the way he said, 'only option left." That was basically a photo copy of his first betrayal; when he went behind their backs and decided to be Crowley's bitch to end the civil war up in heaven and defeat Raphael with the 50,000 souls in his belly.

Now, their resident rebel of heaven was going behind their backs again, keeping secrets and concealing his vague reasons. Of which, how were they even supposed to know it was the whole truth anymore? It wasn't as if they could just look in the damn phonebook for his number and place of residency. It irked them to no end that the situation was out of their hands until further notice, or until they found a way to sprout wings and pull him down themselves, which, even with the highly advanced hoodoo, it was unlikely for that to happen.

A blue painted house gated off by a sidewalk and a small fence, spoke silently of simple happenings, nothing at all alluring to anything dark or malicious. But first impressions were sometimes deceiving. In their experience, a certain vibe, not always strong, but tingling at the edges of their senses, would always be present at a crime scene. Sometimes it was muted my another force or their own self doubt, but what appeared to be normal on the outside could also be filled with sinister forces on the inside. The tire swings and children's toys littering the lawn were usually just entrapments meant to deter them.

This time though, there were no toys or tire swings of any kind. The vibe was normal.

"Sam, i'm not getting anything. You?"

Sam finished with his usual six senses examination of the place, and spoke. "Same here. It's, I dunno... kinda peaceful."

"So, not a vengeful spirit. A spirit then." Dean mused while sliding out of the car, dressed in his usual FBI attire, same as his brother.

"Could be. But it takes a pretty vengeful spirit to explode all over a girl's room," Sam replied. The hunter walked around to Dean, giving him an intense look. "...Are you sure you want to be doing case work right now? I mean, we could be spending our time trying to figure out what all this means, researching Cas's condition."

Dean licked his lips. "Hey, don't forget, he dumped us. It's obviously too far above our pay grade to get involved in." He paused, turning towards the house. "Let's go."

Sam followed behind his brother, his mind swirling with the angel's words. He was sure there was a hidden meaning inside them, but like Dean, he was caught by surprise when he preferred the help of his back-stabbing brothers over his family. But there was also a small chance that conditions had changed.

The brothers arrived at the door and knocked. A woman in her mid 30s with long red-hair and Celtic features, answered.

"Hello, Mrs. Rarren. I'm agent Dave Rickson and this is my partner, Jim Settlebee." They waved their badges in front of the woman before flipping them closed, putting them away in the inner pockets of their suits. "We would like to see your daughters room?"-

"Yes, of course, agents. She led them into the house and down the hall, stopping at the door of what appeared to be a little girls room; what with the Barbie poster stuck to it. "She's been in my room for days, won't even step foot in her bedroom after it exploded."

"It?" Sam asked.

"Her imaginary friend."

"Excuse me, I can't quite place your accent. Is it Gaelic?" Dean questioned, ignoring the proud look his brother was giving him.

"Yes, it is. We moved here from Ireland after my husband died. God rest his soul. Mary had such a wonderful relationship with her father. They would constantly play in the fields, have little tea parties. He was her best friend..." She stared off into space, a distant expression softening her features, before focusing again. "And my love." She broke down sobbing.

Sam handed her a tissue out of his suit pocket, which she gratefully accepted. He then rubbed her shoulder sympathetically, speaking gently to her. "I'm so sorry for your loss, Asa, he sounded like a great man. By any chance, did your daughter ever tell you what her imaginary friend looked like? Any details at all would be helpful, no matter how small."

She dabbed her eyes with the tissue and looked up at him. "Well, she did say that he looked like her father."

The brothers shared knowing looks.

"I thought she was talking to a ghost, but after the priest came and performed an exorcism, I just chalked it up to an imaginary friend psychologically being her father, as a coping mechanism to deal with all the grief." She sniffed. "I know that I shouldn't have moved, but It was too painful of a reminder to stay there any longer. I guess it was too much for her."

Dean briefly turned his gaze from the white sheet covering a small table in another room, before facing the woman. "So, i'm guessing that you believe in supernatural creatures?"

"Yes, of course. I heard so many stories and legends as a child. Like the one about the Banshee for example. A terrifying creature that wails and screams. That story gave me many a sleepless nights."

"Yeah, those bitches sure give you one nasty ear ache," Dean remarked, hearing a slight ringing in his ear from the trudged up memory.

Asa frowned, clearly confused. "Excuse me?"

Sam moved in to put out Dean's fire, and subtly coaxed her away from him. "it's nothing, my partner was just trying to be funny." He paused. "So, how long has your daughter been able to see this imaginary friend of hers?"

"About 2 years. My daughter has always had a very wild imagination, so this would be easy for her to conjure up, so to speak..."

While his brother was busy being Smokey the bear, Dean stayed his distance from the two and subtly made his way over to the small table in the living room he'd been eying earlier. Lifting the sheet, a collection of framed family photos came into view, as well as a few unused candles lying in front of them. Nothing appeared out of the ordinary. Green hills, family picnics, happy smiles that reflected in their eyes and posture. If the spirit is the father, then the question was, what or who made him blow up?

"Is this some kind of joke?"

The older Winchester caught his brothers perturbed tone and moved to the bedroom to see what all the commotion was about.

"Fraid not you guys," a voice said.

Dean whipped his head around to find a chubby man, wearing a yellow shirt with white stripes and rainbow overalls. "Sully?" Dean closely watched him as he walked over to Sam and put his arms around him. He wasn't supposed to be surprised. He should've been expecting him to show up, considering the case revolved around an exploding Imaginary. Although, considering his mind wasn't exactly functioning at 100 percent, he was glad he didn't show up to the bureau in his boxers.

"It's good to see you again, Sam," Sully smiled brightly.

"It's good to see you too." The hunter awkwardly hugged him, patting him on the back before letting go. He turned towards the bed covered in green sparkles. "Is this one of your friends?"

Sully sighed. "Yes. Lucky."

Dean scrunched his brows in confusion. "There's an imaginary dog?"

Sully chuckled, shaking his head. "No, he's a Leprechaun. He was assigned here because he requested to be with his daughter before making the transition."

Sam raised a brow. "Transition?"

"Heaven. You do believe in heaven, don't you?"

"Yeah, we believe in it. There's just a lot more transitions that you can make now," Dean finished.

"Yes, but to a man that did nothing but spend his whole life serving others with a clean conscience, there is only one place for him to go." Sully looked on lamentingly at the green dust, shaking his head grievously. "Why didn't you listen to me, Bartholomew?"

"So, you know what happened to him then?" Sam inquired.

"Yes, we have many weaknesses, but one of them is our emotions. If we get too scared, we disappear unwillingly, leaving behind a pile of feathers to break our fall if anything happens. If we get too jealous, the same thing happens, except we leave behind a pile of snakes; which are all unseen and unable to harm anyone, in case you were wondering. And if we get too sad, this happens." He waved a hand over the green bed.

Dean furrowed his brow, trying to make sense of how snakes played a part. "What about if you guys get too angry?"

Sully leaned in and clapped a hand on his shoulder, looking him dead in the eye. "Believe me, you don't want to know. He released him from his grip and sauntered over to the door. Now, the only way I'll find him is if I speak to his daughter. Where is she?"

"Um, she's in her mom's bedroom." Sam replied, pointing to the door across from them in the hall.

"Okie dokie," Sully answered and strutted out of the room.

The door closed with a click, leaving the brothers alone. Sam's phone rang in his pocket, and he pulled it out, briefly flashing Dean the number, before clicking the green button. "I got you on speaker."

"Agents, we have two assignments for you and your partner. The remains of a person were found on the interstate, highway 25, and a boy's hand is severally bruised from trying to reach the candy from inside a vending machine at Rogue Valley Mall. The boy is receiving medical help at Providence Medford Medical Center. We suspect an equipment malfunction for both victims, but there isn't enough left of one of them to get a solid reading. The police need two feds to get down there and investigate as soon as possible, and since you're the closest to the crime scenes, you're next in line."

"Yes, sir. We're on our way," Sam replied, before hanging up.

Dean met his gaze. "Imaginary goes rogue, and the people in the area fall victim to situations that can be turned from bad to good with one malfunction."

"And his figure is associated with luck," Sam finished. "So since he's thrown a sad tantrum in this town, the people are paying for it by having their luck taken away from them."

Which means we gotta tell Sully, and hit the highway.

They both nodded, and after giving Sully the information, as well as asked a certain favor, then drove away.

* * *

The roar of the Impala lessened to a purr as the brothers pulled into the bunker's garage.

Dean's knuckles were stark white around the steering wheel, his forehead creased with worry as he sat still, with no apparent will power to get out.

Sam knew his brother would take the angel's disappearance, hard. But he even though he could've been captured, there was also a chance that the angel made it to his trustworthy brother safely. So unless something or someone told him otherwise, Sam would remain optimistic, and try his hardest to get his brother out of the slump he'd fallen into on the drive home. "Dean, we don't know if something bad happened. We should give him the benefit of the doubt."

"You saw what happened last time. Most of what his brothers. His own flesh and blood did to him, I couldn't even stitch last time. If he got caught Sam-" Dean's throat tightened. "I just... There might not be anything for us to put back together again. All the king's horses and all the king's men, that's it. The final curtain call."

He continued. "But why worry, right? There's always the .0001 percent chance he's chilling on a fluffy white cloud right now snacking on Manna. I should just ignore the feeling of wanting to vomit."

Sam pursed his lips. "Okay. First off, did you seriously just quote a nursery rhyme? And second, I know, I get it. It's the worst it's ever been. But that doesn't mean we should give up hope."

Dean casted a glance at him, mouth quirking. "It seemed appropriate." Cas held a pretty high status in heaven, but since his fall, he'd been losing to many pieces to repair him; Much like the egg in the story. "We've been through the meat-grinder so many times that I don't have any more pieces of hope left that haven't already been ground up. Cas is undoubtedly far worse, if he's still alive that is." Dean swallowed the bitter taste the word left him with, his jaw ticking. "I'm at the end of my rope, Sammy. We're powerless to do anything, and the one who can, is playing catchup with Amara. I don't know what else to do."

With that, Dean left the car, leaving Sam alone to once again drag out his laptop from his overnight bag and attempt to dig their way out of the crap pile they fell into.

"Dammit, Cas. Why did you have to do this?" Dean muttered to himself, halfway hoping that the angel could hear him. Me and Sam, we could've helped you research what you needed, with you. But you running off to the place that wants your head on an angel platter, instead of asking your family, was a low move, man. Dammit. Cas if you're hearing this, just come back. I promise I won't blow up on ya if that's what you're worried about. Just come home." If you're still alive.

After several minutes went by without a reply, the hunter sank back down on his mattress with a long drawn out shrug, roving his gaze blearily over a picture of him teaching Cas how to fish, on his nightstand. Cas never did get the point of a fishing pole, even with his detailed coaching job. Instead, he said using a net or his grace was far more productive. Even mentioning the famous fisherman from Galilee; which Dean had learned about in Sunday School as a child. Only his many years as a hunter had fine-tuned his senses enough to hear the near silent footsteps approach him. "I know what you're going to say."

"Then why haven't you gotten off your ass yet?" A surely old voice said.

"Because it's no use."

"Did you and Sam give up on me when I was in the veil? No, you pulled together and found a way to get me here. And as long as i'm here, I'm damn well gonna see that you keep your noses to the grindstone." The older hunter shut the bedroom door with a soft click, padding his way back over. "How'd the hunt go, did ya find out anything?"

"Why'd you shut the door?"

"Because it seems like the right thing to do right now," he replied.

"Right. Well, some kid got one nasty bruise from getting his hand suck in a vending machine, and another person was flattened like a pancake over interstate 25 when his parachute didn't open. So, now the entire town is spiraling into some bad luck spell by a Leprechaun and we can't do anything until Sully finds him. But there's nothing on Cas." And his angel is being tortured to death by the God squad, if he isn't already dead, anyway.

"A Leprechaun?" His brows flew up with surprise. "You mean those bearded midgets who hoard gold at the end of rainbows? Or a short misfit who works at Macy's on Saint Patrick's day?"

Dean snorted. "The gold hoarding one."

Bobby saw the undoubtable spark of joy in Dean's eyes, but the same storm clouds soon rolled in, covering up the brightness to a dim glint. It was going to take more work to jumpstart him into action. Moving closer to the bed, Bobby sat down next to the hunter, his voice lowered.

"...Dean. Cas can lick this. He's probably done it all his life, judging the kind of family he used to have. He's far stronger than you or I give him credit. You need to believe in him, send a few prayers to lift his spirits, encourage him. Even though he doesn't always answer. That boy always hears you, and you know it."

Dean wet his lips and pressed them till they were barely visible."...What if he's already dead. Can he still hear me, then?"

"Dean, If you believed he was truly dead, you wouldn't be sitting here feelin' sorry for yourself, you'd be drinkin' your weight in beer." Bobby got up and paused before leaving the room. "You have a choice. You can either sit here and continue to believe he died, or you can help me and Sam prevent it? It's your call."


	6. Chapter 6: Inescapable

**Thank you for all your feedback and support ;) I know it hasn't been easy to have the longer breaks in between chapters, but the that will soon diminish as I coax back to my pre-written chapters for this story after this chapter. Even so, I have managed to update this chapter in record time. *Yay me!* Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 6: Inescapable

~SPN~

The brothers got to work tearing into every book and document having to do with angels off the shelves and stacked them by the table in the Map Room. Once they were sure they had gathered everything, they then spent the next three days combing through the pages with a fine-toothed comb.— Sifting through the Enochian lore, all the way through as much of their entire recorded history as they possessed.

"Well, I got diddly with a side of squat. Any of you found the magic cure yet?" Dean lifted the mug of hot coffee to his lips and took another swallow. The situation was hopeless, just as he said, but naturally, he wasn't the optimistic type anymore.

Sam and Bobby finished reading the last words of the upteenth book, and drew a blank in their minds. It appeared as though the information they were searching for was _extremely_ well safeguarded from even the light of day itself. Their only hope was a child-like imaginary man that dressed like a third grader and ate junk food. Not much hope.

"It's unanimous," Bobby replied grudgingly, slamming the back-cover of A Photographed Collection of Monster Bites and Their Remedies, closed. The hunter was sure that he would find the antidote for a similar monster bite, but without knowing the size, shape, or any idea of what it even looked like, the book wasn't any use.

"Woa, you guys look terrible."

Dean jumped as Sully appeared next to him, also feeling an ache at the memory. "Why can't you guys ever use a door?" He grumbled, thankful that he had put his coffee down ahead of time.

"Because it's a waste of time," Sully said simply, his mouth pulled downward into a dreary frown. Dean was confused by it, used to his bubbly nature and up-beat personality that it was almost shocking to see Sully like he was now. Another ache wrenched at his heart.

Cas would've slanted his head lightly off to the side and stared at him with that special look of confusion that crinkled the skin around his eyes, then say, because it is not a productive use of my time, Dean.' Or some other geeky response ending in a whole bunch of technical phrases that he doesn't understand and has to ask about, before the entire purpose of the conversation is lost, and they end up dropping the whole thing. Crap, why was he taking a hike down memory road all of a sudden?

Dean eye-balled him. "Well, to answer your question, we've been up since Tuesday looking for a cure. You'd have the whole red-rimmed eye thing and pale complexion if you've been living off of coffee and toast for the last 32 hours."

"Fair enough." Sully put up his hands in a truce, which shut Dean up enough that he returned to his coffee. This dude was nothing like Cas.

Sam spoke up in a sincere and worried tone that had Dean once again remembering the bigger picture. Dean saw that his brothers eyes were on the verge of tears, which was about where Dean was right now. Just hang in there Sam. "Did you find anything, Sully?"

"Yes, but it's not the news you were hoping for," Sully replied, pacing around the room nervously.

Dean stiffened and spared a wayward glance to Sam that told him everything he was thinking. "What is it?" He bit out, halfway not even wanting to know if it concerned bad news. Although, if there was a chance that they could save their rebellious and hotheaded friend, then they needed to know everything that Sully bore.

Sully began, his voice tense. "I searched all of heaven looking for your angel, as well as Lucky."

"And?" And when I didn't find him, I asked one of the angels, and they said... they said he's been exiled.- the angel, I mean."

Sam didn't miss a beat. "Exiled? Exiled to where?"

"All they said, was a kind of inescapable prison," Sully replied. "They also said that there was a chance that Lucky had also been sucked in with him, as he had committed a grievous act of murder, along with their prisoner."

Dean let out a small breath of relief. It wasn't much to go on, but at least he now knew that there was a strong chance that Castiel, their rebel angel of the Lord, was _alive_.

Inescapable prison narrowed the list of places to search, down considerably. The most famous was Hell, the second was The Cage, and the third and final was Purgatory. As far as he knew, there weren't any more inescapable places anywhere on earth—but of course they could always be wrong. At least Cas appeared to be alive, for the moment anyway. Though things could always turn on a dim at any moment, he was still counting it a partial blessing. Dean cleared his throat.

"So, Hell. Cage. And Monster Smash-down. Let's get crackin."

* * *

The brothers gathered everything they needed for a summoning ritual and placed three candles on the points of the symbol. Dean took out his knife and cut his arm, watching as a few drops flowed freely into the bowl in the center.

Sam struck a match, sending a small shower of sparks to rain down to the floor as the head ignited. He tossed it into the bowl, causing it to burst into flames with a mixture of blue and gold sparks crackling out from it as it roared and rose into the air, then calmed to the tiny flame of a simple candle.

"I have an idea, let's play guess my motive." A smooth voice drawled infront of them.

The brothers directed their gazes over to the devil's trap to find Crowley dressed in his usual priestly suit; without the spirituality and white neckpiece involved, pressing his fingers into a pyramid position.

"You want something from me, and in return for giving you such priceless information I receive my freedom because you trust me as far as you can throw me wearing lead weights. He gestured to the red-painted devils trap surrounding him. "Or after I supposedly give you this information, you double cross me like you've done in the past and I get sent back into that prison room of yours." Crowley raised his eyebrows and looked over at Sam to get his interpretation of their plan by his expression. "What's my score?"

A slight smile ghosted over Dean's lips. "Then I suggest you comply, considering it is your only option. And keep in mind that we've had more than enough opportunities to exterminate you and the only reason you're still alive is because you've been useful. And the second that stops being true, Sam's gonna exorcise your ass and all your smugness is going to smoke out of your mouth and burn to the ground in one _sizzling_ pile of ash."

Crowley rolled his eyes and crossed his arms impetuously. "You've always had a tendency to be over dramatic." The demon sighed, grudgingly accepting his role. "What can I do for you?"

"I want you to search Hell, the Cage, and Purgatory, for Cas," Dean answered swiftly.

Crowley smirked. "Of course, I should've guessed that your date running off would be warrant for all the attitude. Why don't you do what the rest of the world does and gorge yourself on chocolates and listen to corny music? There are plenty of other angel's in the sea." He looked up thoughtfully as if he was pondering something else to say. "Well, that's not technically true, considering the Icarus incident, but you get my point."

Dean's ire was rising with every word, his hands fisted by his side for fear that releasing them would give them free rain to strangle the bastard's neck. But doing so would be pointless, considering the bastard was the only one who could help them find Cas. The hunter took a deep and controlled breath. "Just search the damn, locations," he hissed. So much for controlled.

Crowley shrugged, and briefly closed his eyes, obviously mentally calculating the time it would take to complete such a task instead of dreading the search. When he opened his eyes again, he pointed at the devil's trap and cleared his throat.

Sam looked over to his brother for assurance, but he was seemingly caught in a battle with his conscience, which was understandable. They really had _no_ way of protecting themselves or keeping Crowley to his promise when the devil's trap was broken.—Such was always the dilemma when dealing with the stinking, sulfur-smelling dickwads. Who was to say that Crowley would obey, instead of hurting them or disappearing?

Dean took a menacing step forward. "I'm gonna need more than that before I trust you."

"I told you to never trust anyone, including me. Crowley saw from their faces that he was moving backwards in progress. He spared another glance to the demon trap. "Look, I give you my word that i'll search the locations as soon as you release me and come straight back here."

"You just said not to trust anyone, and now..." Sam said partly, not needing to explain the rest.

Crowley rubbed the bridge of his nose in frustration. "Good, God. Trust me, don't trust me. I give you my word that I will only complete the task that is required of me by you. It's up to you to either believe it or not."

It had to be done. They couldn't afford to waste time, Crowley was their only means.

After receiving a small nod from Dean, Sam scrapped his foot over the edge of the symbol, creating a skinny white line that marred the symbol from containing the powerful demonic visage any longer.

* * *

Cold air swept over him, absorbing into even the marrow of his bones. The icy flooring had already lowered his body temperature to sub zero degrees, as he suspected from the anemic paleness of his skin and the pins and needles stabbing into him with each movement. Castiel shivered violently, his thin trenchcoat provided little protection against the fridged air that from slowley freezing his body. The angel knew that he wouldn't last long in this state, but if he remained stationary, he would surely die of hypothermia.

Sam and Dean would never approve of him giving up, and he could hear their motivational speeches playing in his head, telling him to push through the pain and cold and find a way out. But it was getting harder and harder to stay awake, harder and harder to want to listen to the same words that were spoon-fed into him from day one. The wonderful relief of what unconsiousness would bring, was quickly dimming his fighting spirit.

The angel laid down and let his eyelids close for just a moment of rest from the straining heaviness. Perhapse he should just accept his fate willingly? After all, he wasn't exactly an angel anymore was he? Even if he managed to escape, Castiel was still doomed to die from a simple bite that would destroy him eventually. _"All our lives, we've had to fight. Sure, there were some days when we got tired of it, but it got easier when we realized one thing: The people. The innocent lives that would be lost if we just gave up and decided to live a normal life. Me and Sam, we love you like hell and it would really break us if you suddenly just gave up and willingly died. Promise me that you will never willing choose to die, and that you will fight with everything ya got when the time comes?"_

A single tear streaked down his cheek. Those were the words Dean had spoken after Lucifer was extracted from Castiel's grace. But even though they all made an impact on him, there was one word in particular that stood out above all the rest. 'Promise.' He had promised Dean that he would fight, and all that he's doing now is wishing and trying to die sooner. What was he thinking of breaking a promise to the Righteous Man?

With renewed fight, Castiel pushed up on his arms and struggled mightily to get to his feet. But the effort was in vain as inevitably fall back down to his knees again. Something was weakening him, turning his body almost human. He roved a stormy gaze over his body before finding silver manacles latched on his wrists. Castiel sighed wearily. That was the reason he wasn't automatically chained to the wall, and why he was so cold and felt so mortal. His grace was now bound from the power of cuffs, reducing him to a mere mortal, again.

The angel remembered the words of Metatron, as he was giving dictation from their father's edict. Such was the punishment for betraying the almighty God, that the traitor be bound and thrown into the darkest abyss from which never shall he return, and left there for the ravages of time to devour his essence until only the skeleton of his vessel remained.

Castiel spared another angry glare to the manacles as if by look alone they would disintegrate. But as he suspected, it did nothing to them. He should have heeded the Winchester's warning. As usual, he thought he was doing the right thing- which couldn't have been farther off the mark. He was heaven's most hated, as he now remembered hearing Jophiel say so venomously, from the confines of Lucifer's mind. Nothing was going to change that. Now, he was sentenced to the most painful death that could befall an angel: Grace Extinction.

As another shiver violently racked his body, Cas folded his arms to try and preserve what little heat that he had left, but it came at a price as his wrists started to ache from the pressure being put on them. Maybe he could never escape even with a willing heart, maybe the wound on his chest would kill him sooner than his punishment would? It was a creature of dark magic that bit him after all. That form of magic had proven to be deadly to angels unless they possessed the _purest_ grace. His fate was surely sealed.

But be that as it may, he was still a warrior. And he had made Dean a promise which he would die trying to keep.

The angel blew life into his hands, the warmth of his breath serving to melt some of the frost away, and bring back enough feeling to put pressure on them. Pitch blackness shrouded his senses, confusing his soul as to if he was even _alive_ as he crawled on his hands and knees. But after a time of wandering around like a blind man who lost his glasses, his hand touched something hard and tangible; like a table of some sort. Cas needed to get a closer look.

Using all his strength, Castiel pulled himself up by his arms, using the table for balance, his feet falling flat and his legs weakly shaking from the strain. The angel wheezed and fell against the object, throat burning as he tried to get air into his oxygen-starved lungs. There had to be a ceiling pipe or window he could break. It was rare that he was ever left in a place without a way to see out; as it was a tactic of his fallen brothers to make his wings twitch with anticipation as he stared out at the random birds that would fly overhead.

Standing on the the tips of his toes, Castiel begin walking forward, his hands sliding along the ceiling for balance as he felt for a latch or pipe of some sort. To his surprise, his hand brushed up against what felt like a metal handle about half way from where he started. Digging deep within himself for even more strength, he pulled down on the latch, gritting his teeth as shooting pain raced up his arms.

Some of the sediment gave away and crumbled to the floor, and the hatch squeaked open.

The angel's eyes no longer reflected his dark quarters, but the millions of stars which peppered the night sky, along with clusters of galaxies interweaved into the fabric of the universe, looking down at him from the 3 ft. diameter hole. His father's creations were truly _breathtaking,_ and like humans, it also gave him a sense of perspective of how small he really was compared to the glowing masses. But as his haze began to clear, he noticed a strange black cylinder pulsing and roaring like a tornado as it spun 360 degrees around him. He was in the eye of something, but what?

The angel remembered the sentence: Bound and thrown into the darkest abyss from which never shall he return. Castiel sank to his knees, a heavy grief weighing on his heart. He was inside a Black Hole. Escape had now been proven to be impossible. Black holes had such a strong gravitational pull, not even light could escape it. Because of this, they were one of heaven's many prisons to imprison the abominations that directly and knowingly defied his father's will by committing the most gruesome acts of evil and defilement.

* * *

 _A Black Hole? Poor Castiel :( What do you think will happen to our dear, sweet angel?_


	7. Chapter 7: Shall Set You Free

Chapter 7: Shall Set You Free

~SPN~

"And ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall set you free." John: 8.32

* * *

Several hours later, a loud thud suddenly startled them out of their worrying, followed by an unsteady, worn out looking angel. The three of them raced over to him just in time to prevent him from face planting on the hard wood floor, and helped him to his feet.

"I... was unsuccessful in-" Without warning the angels face suddenly contorted, causing pain lines to crinkle the skin around his eyes.

"Cas? what's happening?"

The angel's eyes were screwed tight from pain, The hunter was only met with the agonized expression of the angel, and the sight of him clenching his chest; before a blood curdling scream ripped through the air and a blinding flash of light filled the bunker.

The only human hunters, squeezed their ears and eyes shut for what seemed to be an hour, all the while completely sure that they were now permanently blind as they felt their eyes close to boiling under their eyelids, before everything fell silent.

"Cas?"

The angel that was previously clothed, was now bare from the waist up, and protruding from behind him, were two magnificent wings that spanned nearly the entire length of the the bunker and draped over every inch of the floor. They were an iridescent midnight blue, like those of a blue raven; and seemed to glow, no, they were glowing since there was no other source of light anywhere.

The feathers glowed brightly and emitted a soft blue light from them that lit the air around Castiel's form. They were so beautiful and pure, that the hunters just stared at them, unmoving and in awe at the sight before them.

A whimper sounded.

Dean shook himself and felt the gravity of the situation fall heavily on his shoulders again. Trying to keep his sight straight and not on the gigantic wings, he practically fell all over everybody to get to the angel and put an ear to his chest. The sound of his heart beating was an immediate relief to him and everyone else who was encircling around the angel. But that brought up another fear tugging question; why he screamed. Dean remembered hearing the same scream when Castiel was under that hellish monster, which meant that it did more to his angel than what they treated. Something far worse.

He felt something like a heartburn ignite underneath the surface of his chest, irritably staying in one place. The feeling grew stronger as he kept eyes on the angel, not lessening in its strength, but becoming an overpowering feeling that pumped through him and set every nerve ending on fire. He could take it no more. Chick flick moments be damned, he thought, and in a heartwarming moment Dean took the angel into arms and cradled his head in the crook of his neck. He whispered softly to him while rubbing his hand through his hair, as it was one of the past techniques to wake him when no one was looking, all the while trying not to get distracted by the soft downey feathers brushing against his skin, which, oh my God, felt like butter against him.

The rest of the hunters stared at this new side of Dean being displayed out in the open. All the past events of the year had really messed him up to the point of almost being a robot killing machine, and now he was a walking chick flick moment ever since Castiel showed up. Maybe that angel napping event snapped him out of it, maybe this was just a phase that he would push away and deny ever happening. But all the same, Sam and Bobby were definitely not going to spoil this.

Dean knew he was probably going to be made fun of later for this show of affection, but he didn't care. His angel was hurt and he needed him, and no matter what anyone said, he was going to stay with him as long as it took to get better. The way he saw it; the angel in his arms saved him from hell, had saved their sorry asses more times than he could count. Surely he could ignore the staring if it meant that he could help him through this. If he could be there for him now.

Dean became aware of the coarse feel of the angels fingers entwined in his own, and the faint pounding of a heartbeat under his free hand.

"Damit! I feel so helpless, Bobby. Cas could be dying and were just sitting on our asses and watching. There's gotta be something we can do? There's no blood, and no broken bones, there's not a mark on him. Why the hell is he still out, what's wrong with him!"

Bobby ignored the oldest Winchers sharp tone, and tried his best to reason with him."I don't know Dean, whatever that creature was, he hurt him in a way that we probably can't even see. And since we can't call in another halo for the obvious reasons, we just have to stick this out and pray for him to pull through like always."

"This isn't like always, there's friggin glowing wings right here!" He snapped.

Bobby furrowed his brow. "I don't have cataracts, boy. I can see that. But it's up to him now."

The hunter shrugged and bowed his head towards Castiel, wishing that he's never been placed in a world where he had to watch every one he loved, die. Considering one of their members was angel, he thought it highly unlikely that he would ever have to witness such complete vulnerability. But here he was, holding onto his angel, hoping that each breath, wouldn't be his last.

There was a shuffling like someone was sitting down next to them, but his eyes never moved from their spot, even when he felt a hand rest on his shoulder. But he knew who it was, by feel alone. "He can't die. Not after everything that's happened, not after the victory."

His brothers voice was hoarse and tight, and Sam was convinced that if what was holding him together, were any looser, he would break down."We don't know that he will, Dean. Cas could be fighting this thing, whatever it is. Maybe he just needs some time? And you know, prayer wouldn't hurt. Just saying, he's an angel so we probably need to appeal to the spiritual."

Dean snorted. "You're still on board with the God thing? He's made it clear that he doesn't give a crap about any of us, not even them."

"I know that he hasn't done much to help, but he did bring back Cas once before. Maybe he'll do it again and we just have to pray."

"Pray." Dean echoed.

Sam nodded and moved back to sit down.

Dean licked his lips and thought for a moment, but then silently gave in and bowed his head. "Do you see your son down here, he's done nothing but try to help straighten out this behemoth of a mess since you left. And now he's hurt and he needs you. He needs you bad, and if you're any kind of father you'll save your son."

Soon after Dean, Sam and Bobby offered up their own prayers to whatever was looking down on them now.

But they had to believe God was, for Cas' sake.

The older Winchester kept a watchful eye for any signs of change, but the angel's breathing was still erratic, and he was still unresponsive to his touch. He sucked in a breath. The one thing Dean couldn't take was being helpless. Usually, there was something he could do, whether it was stitching up a wound or setting a bone, hell even holding a cold rag to his brothers forehead when he had a fever was better than this. He needed to do something or he would go mad.

He faced his brother. "See, Sam? The son of a bitch, won't answer the phone."

Just then, Dean felt a hand clamp onto his arm and he flicked down to see the angels eyes suddenly snap open and his vision locked on him in desperate dilations, before collapsing again.

Dean looked up from the angel and narrowed his eyes with a renewed fight. "Bobby, I need you to get me some tweezers and enough morphine for a blue whale. Sam, I need you to bring me all the small knifes you can find, some towels, and a small container."

Sam and Bobby exchanged glances before standing up, and quickly gathered the list of supplies from around the house before returning back to Dean.

"Since I ain't a whale doctor, this is all I could scrounge up." The oldest hunter handed a bottle of anesthesia and a syringe over to him and took his place on the floor by Sam, trying not to complain about what the hard floor did to his aging body.

After everything was prepped and ready, Dean saw the angel hover his hand over his chest for for a brief moment, before it fell limp to the side of him again.

The hunter took gentle care in removing the angels trench coat, suit and tie, before tearing through the white undershirt, exposing his chest. Whatever his angel had done had caused two small puncture wounds to now appear, perforating the angels chest just to the left of his heart leaving sickly black veins extending from the puncture sites.

Cas you stupid son of a bitch, why didn't you tell me you got bit? Dean filled the syringe; letting not one drop of the precious anesthetic go to waste, and administered it to the angel.

The hunter tried to mind speak with him again. _"Cas, how do you feel?"_

 _"Numb."_

 _"Alright, just hang in there."_

 _"Wait, Dean?"_

 _"Yes?"_

 _"Get it out of me, no matter what it takes."_

 _"I will, Cas."_

After receiving a barely audible ok from Castiel, Dean picked up one of the small knives and lowered it to the angels chest. This wasn't his first time operating on his angel so he was far less hesitant to make the first incision, even though his hand shook a bit.

Blood pooled around the edges of the knife as he made a sizable cut around the area, and he felt Cas tense, but he didn't make a sound. He carefully widened the area around the two punctures again, careful to keep his vision from drifting to the incredible wings. Sam dried up the blood that was leaking out, with a towel.

Dean dug deeper and deeper and was still nowhere near anything, except for his vital organs which were only a few inches away from being hit. In spite of prior experience with this kind of surgery, there was nothing he could do to stave his quivering hand, which thankfully only became present when he lessened the pressure to shift directions. He hadn't expected to be so nervous before this began. Dean wiped the sweat from his brow and continued to separate the tissue.

An hour later and a few groans from Cas indicating that they were indeed performing surgery on a live angel instead of a cadaver, something came into view.

Lying beneath on the bottom of a deep shaft that he carved out, a spherical mass was wedged tightly in his flesh. Dean took a hard look at it, but he couldn't make out anything but the shape of it, and barely that as the light was very much absent with the kind of depth that it was occupying. Setting the knife down he moved back to the tweezers, and with another forced inhale he lowered them down into the chasm of flesh. This was now officially a life-size version of Operation.

Having exhausted almost everything they could do at this point, Sam and Bobby just sat by the sidelines and watched diligently, keeping a firm hold Castiel's legs and torso incase he decided that he didn't like the feeling of being cut into anymore and tried to wriggle loose.

Castiel was trembling hard now as Dean weaved his way further down. The hunter heard the angel gasp as he reached the foreign object, but he soon realized they had a much bigger problem on their hands.

"Dammit!"

Bobby narrowed his eyes half in worry and the other cluelessness. "What's wrong?"

"There's something lodged in his skin and I can't pull it out."

Sam interjected. "What does it look like?"

"It's round and hard." The hunter tried to think of more ways to describe it, but with the depth that it was in, and the inaccessibility to light, that's all he could really say about it.

Dean turned his sights to the angel. "Cas, how you doing?"

Castiel's eyes opened to small slits and he gazed up at him. "I… hurt."

* * *

Those wings, right? But, oh, my heart aches for our dear, sweet angel. What do you think is inside his chest?

Oh, you'll never guess what will happen in the next chapter :P

Thank you for reading :D


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